Struggling to Live
by MaeganLondon
Summary: "Life in Azkaban for crimes against humanity." Those were the last words Harry heard before the cell door slammed shut, and he knew he would never get out alive. H/D. MPREG. Slash. Check for additional warnings at start of chapters.
1. Chapter 1

Struggling To Live

Summary: "Life in Azkaban for crimes against humanity." Those were the last words Harry heard before the cell door slammed shut, and he knew he would never get out alive. H/D. MPREG. Slash.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter or any aspect of the series. I just play with the characters and mold them to my liking. I make no money off my stories. Le sigh...

**Chapter 1 – Alone in Pain**

**WARNING:** This chapter contains graphic scenes of childbirth. MPREG. Slash. Don't like, don't read.

He jolted awake panting and trembling. Sweat was dripping from his face onto his already damp blanket. His lower abdomen ached fiercely after his latest dream; a memory he told himself, though memories and dreams were beginning to run together.

He allowed his head to lull to the side weakly as a moan broke the silence. A sharp fire was burning through his abdomen, causing his breath to hitch with each unstable intake. The pain was continuous. He tried pressing his weak hands into the offending body part, against a hard mass that seemed to be the offense, but the pain didn't lessen any. He could no longer remember a time without the fiery pain.

His bladder was stinging with need for release, so he rolled over and attempted pushing himself to his hands and knees. He had already soiled himself once recently, evidenced by the soggy, reeking dirt and blanket below where he lay.

His genitals were burning with a heavy pressure, but he couldn't care to worry. He would never get out of here alive anyway. Basically, he was just waiting for whatever god existed to allow him to die. He had no hope of ever getting out. The ministry was too corrupt; anyone he had ever associated with outside this hell was living on a lower floor. He could hear the moans, groans, and screams from his own maximum security, solitary confinement floor. When they had first been brought to the island, Hermione and Ron had shouted injustice and encouragement so he could hear. It took two months for his best friends to succumb to the terrors of dementors.

He made his way slowly to the small, nearly full bucket in the corner of his cell. It was emptied at the end of each week. Or maybe at the beginning. He didn't care enough. He held his bits delicately as he relieved himself. A hoarse sob escaped him as lava burned through his penis. It felt like it would never stop, but when it did, he collapsed to the floor panting and whimpering. Something was seriously wrong, but no one here would care. There weren't even any guards on his floor or anywhere inside the prison for all he knew.

It had been six months to his best guesstimate since he had been locked away. The Minister's visits once a month to gloat and sneer helped him to gage the passage of time, along with the emptying of his bucket and the appearance of trays of slop.

When the pain finally subsided some, Harry dragged himself back to his soggy pallet. At least he could feel some semblance of warmth and comfort by cuddling his thin blanket to his chest. He imagined warm days in front of the fire in the Room of Requirement cuddled up closely with Draco, and sometimes, the warmth of his imaginings made him feel slightly less hopeless.

He missed Draco. Their fun camaraderie, their never-ending arguing, their passionate nights haunted his every waking moment. He could feel the ghost of Draco's lips caressing his own, teasing his nipples, taunting the sensitive spot just below his ear. His manhood feebly attempted to respond to his thoughts, but only a dull, throbbing pressure greeted him. He was broken, lost, suffering. He didn't care to live anymore. Draco was gone. Hermione and Ron were gone. His life meant nothing.

Six months in Azkaban prison was enough to turn the sanest people mad. Six months for Harry Potter was enough to make him want to end his life. He had been sentenced to life in prison for crimes against humanity in the defeat of Voldemort, and being the leader of the "revolt", he was sentenced to life in solitary confinement. He didn't know how any of his other friends were fairing. Hermione and Ron had been arrested at the time he had. They had been sentenced together. Hermione and Ron were sharing cells with the others captured because of Voldemort's war. He wasn't sure who had escaped and who was captured any longer. He assumed all the Weasleys, Longbottom, the Lovegoods, and Tonks and Lupin had been arrested. They had all been strong followers of his who would never deny their connection to him.

And Draco. Draco was a Slytherin. He looked out for his best interests, so Harry had no doubt in his mind that Draco was living his life, moving on. There was no way Draco was pining after Harry the way Harry was over him. Harry wasn't worth it. His thoughts conflicted with him. He wanted Draco to move on, to be happy, but he was angry and jealous at the thought of him doing so. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes, but he ignored them. At one point he would have been embarrassed by them, but he didn't care any longer.

His and Draco's relationship had been passionate and loving, but short. They had secretly started dating in the beginning of their seventh year. Harry had known he was gay, but due to the teachings of his aunt and uncle, he refused to acknowledge the fact, instead, punishing himself for the dreams starring other boys. Draco had helped him come to terms with his feelings towards guys. It had only taken them an entire year of tenuously building a friendship with their sworn childhood enemies. Draco, himself, leaned on Harry for support after he ran away from home and outright refused Voldemort.

For everything they hated each other for before, they found they had in common. Both were competitive, loved Quidditch, and were eager in their knowledge of defense. Through Draco, Harry even learned a love of Potions. It was much like cooking, which he was intimately knowledgeable about. Draco was still a git, but it made Harry laugh. He could tell the emotion behind each of Draco's masks and knew the sneer he put on was just a front. Often, the sneer was to keep hidden the smile over something someone was doing. Harry spent a lot of time watching Draco from across the room, wondering how no one knew or could see through Harry's charade.

It was because of their secret relationship that Draco was able to move on after Voldemort's defeat. He had never been associated with Harry. Draco, for all intents and purposes, had been neutral in the war, and Harry was thankful for that misconception. Harry and a select few were the only ones who knew it was Draco who killed Crabbe and Goyle Sr. It was Draco who killed Fenir Greyback after he attacked Remus. It was Draco who killed Bellatrix mid curse as she tried attacking Harry from behind. And it was Draco who killed Lucius Malfoy as he tried to kill Harry when he collapsed after Voldemort died.

When Fudge and the aurors showed up when Voldemort was felled, Draco was completely overlooked. Harry was barely conscious to see Draco try to step in and argue when the aurors began arresting members of the Order of the Phoenix. He vaguely saw Snape grab Draco by the arm and apparate away before he lost all consciousness.

When Harry awoke, he was in a small, cold cell inside the Ministry. A man he didn't know was standing over him with a wand pointed at him.

"Up, Potter. You've been sleeping enough. Time for your trial." The man grabbed Harry roughly and dragged him from the cell.

Harry was weak and couldn't get his feet under him. His head was spinning and his stomach was revolting. It felt as if he was woken too early. His body wasn't prepared to be functioning yet. He was dragged up stairs, bypassing the elevators completely, and dropped in front of the chair he had sat in during the fiasco of a trial before his fifth year. The chains not only rattled this time but wrapped around his legs and arms like vines. The chains tightened harshly against his wrists, yanking him from his ungraceful position sprawled on the floor and up into the chair.

The trial was a sham. Harry had no say for his own defense. He had no representation without Dumbledore. Draco was sitting next to Snape in the back of the room. Harry could tell Draco was barely holding himself together, and when their eyes met, neither looked away until Harry was dragged from the room.

Nothing mattered to Harry any longer.

With a small metallic clink, a steel tray with oatmeal and two sausages fell to the stone floor. A fresh cup was dropped beside the tray, and Harry slowly scooted towards it. He was starving all the time now. Had been starving since he arrived in this hell. The only food served in Azkaban was small, dry breakfast sausages, plain oatmeal, wilting vegetables, and dry loaf bread. Harry missed the delicious feasts at Hogwarts, but he couldn't think of things like that.

An unbearable pain shot through his back and into his stomach, and he couldn't stop the sob that escaped him. He hadn't even been able to make it the six feet to the tray of food. Tears streamed from his eyes as he screamed through his pain. Within moments, it was over and he lay there hopeless, still crying, and breathless. After a long time, he felt strong enough to try making it to his tray again.

His stomach burned with need for food. He pulled himself up to lean heavily against the solid steel cell door as he pulled his tray to him. His arms were so thin he looked like a skeleton with skin. He reached his short bony fingers for his spoon and was disgusted by how badly his hands shook.

He was able to choke down almost half his oatmeal and both his sausages before he was overcome again by the sharp pain. He fell to his side grasping at his stomach as his food threatened to come back up. His spoon had fallen halfway to his mouth and the runny glop splattered on the floor in front of him.

Harry gasped as he felt a tearing down below. It felt like his anus was splitting open towards his balls. He unconsciously reached down to press his fingers to the spot and was horrified to find blood. His soft cries became harsh sobs as he curled in on himself, clutching his burning abdomen.

It felt like forever when the pain went away almost completely, and he was left gasping for breath. He knew he was going to die. Whatever was wrong with him was going to kill him. The hard mass in his stomach was growing and was swelling his stomach. He had noticed it for a couple weeks, but didn't pay it any attention because he had no hope of getting out of here alive.

His genitals felt like they were on fire again. He prayed the split in his perineum wasn't lengthening over his testicles and onto his penis. He was petrified by what was happening to his body.

It wasn't fair! A sob escaped him as the back and stomach pain returned fiercely. He had saved the bloody world, and now he was going to die a very slow and painful death in prison. He had lived most his life in fear; first from punishment from his obese uncle and cousin, then from the mad Dark wizard who wanted nothing but to kill him. It was supposed to be time for him to _live,_ for him to finally have a life!

The pressure against his genitals from the inside of his body was increasing, and he squeezed his knees to his chest with his weak arms. He cried from the pain, sick of getting dealt the bad hand time and time again. He just wanted it to all go away. He wanted to give up.

Hours later and he was still lying in the same place, in the same position. Two more meals had been brought and taken away uneaten. The pain had only increased, and he was weak and nearly delirious. He could swear the mass in his abdomen had moved positions, and there were more masses oddly shaped.

He had cried and sobbed himself completely dehydrated. His lips were bone dry, and his swollen tongue did nothing to alleviate the chap. He was craving water like a dying man in the desert, but he couldn't move to get a glass from the sink.

The pressure on his genitals had increased exponentially, and it felt like the mass was trying to push its way out.

Two more meals came and went, but Harry barely noticed in his feverish nightmare. He would doze when the pain subsided to a fiery burn, and awoke to sharp knife thrusts in his pelvis and genitals. His body naturally reacted to the thrusting pain with his anal muscles clenching and bearing down as if he were using the loo. The fire coursing through his anus nearly always made him feel faint after his muscles clenched. He felt like his insides were ripping open.

He had at some point rolled onto his back, the cold stone floor easing the ache in his lower back somewhat.

He didn't know how it was humanly possible, but the pain increased. His legs automatically bent at the knee, and he pulled his knees to his chest, crying out as his anal muscles clenched and pulsed. He felt a gush of liquid splash from the gash below his testicles, but he didn't care. This was the end of his life. God was finally going to kill him and end his torture. His muscles kept clenching and pushing, the mass getting lower and lower in his pelvis. After some harsh sobs and arching against the pain and clenching, the mass was pressing against his anus. He reached down, trying to ease the fiery pain as his muscles continued to push against the offending growth.

A slimy mess of hair was just beneath the last ridge of muscles. He removed his hand, bloody and dripping with clear, slimy fluid and gripped at his knees, pulling them apart as if displaying himself to Draco's needy, lustful gaze. He bore down instinctively and gasped in relief as the initial portion of the mass escaped his body, giving him some form of relief. He breathed in gulps before his body began its pushing again. The pain increased again, burning and tearing.

His body pushed and clenched against the pain, and Harry tried to help it along by bearing down again. It seemed to help the last time.

A loud cry of pain fell from his mouth as the mass finally broke free completely from his body and fell to the hard floor with a cry.

Harry rolled to his side, his knees still tucked close to his body.

A choking, coughing cry, one that didn't belong to him, kept Harry from falling into oblivion. He couldn't breath as he pushed himself up enough to see what had just come from his body.

His head swam alarmingly and his anus ached fiercely, but he continued to push himself up. He was going to throw up. He tried holding it in, but a sharp throb in his head forced anything available up and out of his mouth. He gagged and heaved a few seconds before pushing himself all the way to a sitting position.

A tiny, slimy baby was crying and choking frantically between his legs. The baby was face down, and Harry began patting it on the back to try and clear whatever it was choking on from its throat. A long cord ran across the grimy floor from underneath the baby to Harry's body.

Remembering the coldness from the floor, he scooped up the baby, a boy, and held him face down against his forearm as he continued to pat the baby's back. After a few coughs, the baby's frantic choking turned into screaming cries. The bluish hue to his skin turned into a flushed pink. Harry slowly pulled his moth-eaten tunic over his head, hoping its scratchy material wouldn't hurt the baby's skin as he draped it over himself and the baby.

Harry's body felt weak, but he knew he had to separate the baby from him somehow. He felt his magic pulsing so close to the surface that he knew just for this, his inherent magic would help him. He turned the baby over gently and pinched the cord close to the baby's body. His magic cut off and sealed the cord, it dropping from the baby's body to lay limply on the floor beside Harry.

A sharp pain, a lot more manageable than the previous pain ripped through his lower back and abdomen causing Harry to cry out in surprise. He felt the pulsing, throbbing of his anal muscles and prayed he wasn't about to push out another baby. He lay back with the baby on his chest, the pain nothing compared to before, and after a few minutes of pushing, a splash and a glop were the only things that told Harry it was over.

He groaned and pulled the screaming baby closer to his chest. Harry rolled onto his side again, his arm protecting the child from the harsh cold on the stone floors, and sobbed. He buried his face against the baby's wet, bloody hair and cried everything he had left. The tunic that had been the only thing Harry had worn for 6 months lay discarded on the floor. He pulled it over the baby and draped it across his own chest, keeping the baby's warm skin against his own.

He cried himself into a fitful state of unconsciousness, the warm, bloody body of the baby making him feel safe and secure for the first time since he could remember.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 – Feeling Alone in a Crowded Room**

**WARNING:** This chapter and many more following it will contain male on male sexual activities. If you get offended or do not like reading these things, please find a more suitable story to read. SLASH.

A hot, wet tongue traced slowly up from his navel, waking him up from a comfortable sleep. He grinned lazily, unwilling to open his eyes just yet as the tongue reached one of his nipples. A moan escaped his mouth as sharp teeth clamped down on his sensitive flesh, sending sparks of pleasure straight to his throbbing erection. It didn't help that his body was already aroused prior to being woken.

The tongue soothed the nub before teeth nipped at it again, and Draco arched towards the warm hands gliding softly up his torso. The teasing mouth moved up, sucking on an erogenous zone right where his shoulder met his collarbone. He moaned loudly, writhing to get closer to the body beside him, but it was no use. The hands that had so lovingly caressed his sides moved away and a silky garment fell across his closed eyes. He felt it cinched tight, and Draco purred in satisfaction.

He was always so much more sensitive to touch, smell, and sound when he couldn't see.

His hands were stretched above his head and secured with the same silk to the headboard. The hands, _the hands_, trailed fingers over his skin, barely touching. Draco writhed and wiggled, goose flesh covering his torso. Every small touch was pumping blood fast and hard between his legs, and he felt himself whimper in need.

"Harrrrreeee," he moaned as the hot mouth latched onto the sensitive flesh of his earlobe. His lover's hot, heavy breath in his ear was sending trembles throughout his body like ripples in a pond. The tongue dipped into the shell of his ear, and he gasped. He arched and wiggled more, trying to get those lovely hands on his most sensitive and needy appendage.

He felt so vulnerable being tied up and naked as he was. The blankets and sheets were long gone. Slowly and ever so teasingly, the mouth kissed and sucked and licked at every inch of skin from neck to thigh, completely ignoring his pulsating member. A soft nip at the tender skin of his inner thigh made him gasp and buck, hitting his hard erection against soft flesh that wasn't his own.

He threw his head back in a delirious mixture of relief and frustration. He felt the weight on the bed shift from between his legs to his side, and he knew his manhood, painful in its swollen state, wouldn't be accidentally touched again. "Please," he breathed, so worked up he wasn't against begging.

The only answer he received was a mouth covering his own, the hot body beside him being careful to not touch his own. His need was nearly desperate as his mouth was devoured. He thrust his tongue into his lover's mouth, taking control even whilst he was confined. His hands pulled frantically at their bindings.

The hitch in breath and deep moans coming from his lover made him smile into the soft mouth. Draco knew he was just as turned on as Draco was. Just as quickly, the kiss ended, and Draco whined like a three year old. "Please," he tried again.

A finger was pressed to his lips, silencing him, but Draco had other ideas for the use of that finger. He let the finger slip into his mouth and sucked deeply, showing his lover exactly what he wanted. His tongue swirled around the tip before traveling down the length again. A soft groan was his answer to his ministrations, and he could just picture his lover watching him in desperate fascination as he usually did. Draco lifted his mouth from the finger and used his tongue to let his lover know he wanted a second. Two fingers slipped into his mouth, and he could practically feel his love's pulsing, erotic magic in the air around them.

He was thoroughly impressed by how quiet his lover was being during this meeting. He usually was the most vocal person Draco had ever known. The sounds that Draco knew he could pull from that pretty mouth made him even harder if it was possible. His hips lifted from the bed, thrusting against his will, begging for something to touch him.

The sharp snap and click of a lid made Draco even more impatient as he struggled with the ties at his wrists again. His arms were going to be red and possibly bruised with all the pulling and twisting he was doing, but he didn't care. His mind, his body only wanted one thing.

He cried out loud when warm liquid hit his cock and slid from the head down. He was choking for air as his body spasmed out of control, so desperate for release. As the liquid began cooling, a hand wound its way around his length, and Draco cried out in relief as his hips bucked. The blinding, uncontrollable pleasure he felt pulsing through him made him keen and gasp as he felt like his body was going to combust if he didn't come _right now_.

"Not yet," a voice whispered. That voice, _his _voice. God, how could two little words said in that voice make his stomach flip? He lost the thought and all others when two fingers painfully pinched at the base of his cock, and he cried out again in injustice. "Just wait," the voice purred as the warmth of the body neared Draco's own skin, and the bed shifted around him.

In a fluid motion, the fingers released, and Draco's erection was buried to the hilt in the tightest, wettest, hottest hole he had ever felt. "Oh God," he groaned, his head rolling to the side as all coherent thought left him. He panted frantically, trying to reign in his imminent explosion. He needed this to last. God, he never needed anything more in his life than to feel the intense pleasure he was being shown. "Need. To. Touch," he accentuated through clenched teeth, trying to control his body.

With a breath of magic, Draco trembled as the power swept over him and his hands were released. He grabbed frantically at the tie binding his vision and pulled.

He woke up with a gasp, his balls about to explode from the pressure. He quickly grabbed his stiff cock in his hand, pumped it twice, and coated his blankets and stomach with his seed. A sob escaped him at the disgust he felt at himself. The loss and guilt weighed so heavily in his belly that he felt as if he may vomit. It was only a dream, but it was the worst kind of dream he ever had. Harry's hands and lips felt like fresh burns on his body. The remnants of memories hurt more than caused the pleasure they had while he had been sleeping.

He turned over and buried his face in his pillow, throwing the blankets over his head to block out the happy sunlight.

No matter how awful he felt when he woke up from a dream like that, he couldn't bear to stop them. Taking a Dreamless Sleep, as he had been offered more times than he cared to remember, would only take away from him seeing Harry. Even though it was just a dream, Draco couldn't fathom not seeing Harry in any form. If he couldn't have him in real life, he refused to give him up in the dreaming realm.

It took several long minutes to get his emotions under control again. Since Harry had been incarcerated, he struggled to keep up his Slytherin mask. He often found himself on the verge of breaking down. It was pathetic. He was pathetic.

Angrily, he shoved the covers aside and grabbed his wand to clean his earlier mess. Sulking in bed wasn't helping anyone. He took a shower, allowing the warm water to take away the stiffness from tossing and turning all night. He felt some of his exhaustion flowing down the drain as the warmth provided him with false energy. He would definitely need it.

He hadn't slept a full night's sleep since before the final battle, although before it had been a much more pleasant lack of sleep. Harry was incorrigible, but Draco loved it. If Harry didn't practically maul him every day, Draco was sure he would have done the same. Thankfully, he was able to keep his Slytherin dignity in tact and "passively" allow Harry to do what he wanted with his body.

Pulling on a pair of trousers, a shirt, and a pair of shoes, Draco padded down the stairs. It was early still, despite the shining sunlight streaming in the windows. Up here, in Northern Scotland, the days started really early and ended really late during the summer season.

Draco crept into the study and grabbed the books he had been studying before. He was nearly through the third Muggle law book. He never noticed when the others in the house began waking and mumbled a polite denial for breakfast. He didn't acknowledge when others joined him in the room and began their own research. The house, so heavy with grief, was always silent. Conversation, if it wasn't about researching Azkaban, was short and quiet.

Hours later, Draco paced the small study of the ramshackle house that had been his prison for the last seven months. He had lived here with several others since the day the Dark Lord was defeated. Since the day Harry should have started his life. He was going out of his mind, they didn't understand.

In frustration, he threw himself into his hard, wooden chair and picked up the book he had pushed aside angrily an hour ago. His eyes were burning from exhaustion, and he knew he looked like a wreck. He had caught a glimpse of his face in the mirror, and he almost didn't recognize himself. His eyes were haunted, the sparkling silver he had gotten used to when he was around Harry was now a dull gray. The shadows beneath were a deep, dark purple. His face was gaunt. He rarely ate anymore, knowing Harry was barely getting enough to sustain himself.

What little sleep he got, he dreamt of better times with Harry. He always woke up more depressed than when he went to sleep. Sometimes, his dreams were of what their lives would be like now that Voldemort was dead. They had often spoken of what would be when Harry was finally free.

The words on the page of the Muggle law book were swimming together. Again, for the second time in an hour, he shoved it away angrily. They had been through these books countless times. They owned every Wizarding law book in English, German, and French. They'd ordered or found at libraries a lot of Muggle law books. None of them told them exactly what needed to be done. How do you overthrow a corrupt government? How do you break someone out of an inescapable prison?

After exhausting the Wizarding books, they turned to Muggle law. Draco knew the Prime Minister knew of their world. He wanted to have all evidence of corruption and Harry's innocence before they went to the Muggles for help. Muggles were the last resort. Getting them involved may very well make their world into an extension of the Muggle world. They really didn't want the Muggles to control their government.

"Any luck?"

Draco looked up from his furious gaze at the book across the table to see Lupin in the open doorway. "No, I'm so tired, I can't see straight."

Lupin came into the room and sat at the table across from Draco. "You should really take a Dreamless Sleep."

"I don't want to go a night without seeing Harry," he replied stubbornly, crossing his arms and slouching in his seat.

He could feel Lupin's pitying gaze on him and he refused to look up. He didn't understand. If Draco stopped seeing Harry every night, he might start forgetting what he looked like, sounded like, smelled like, felt like. He couldn't bear the thought of forgetting even the smallest detail of Harry like the way a small strip of his waist always showed when he stretched overhead. Or how Harry always smiled sleepily and buried his head between the pillow and Draco's shoulder whenever he would wake to Draco studying him. He always blushed so prettily, all over his body.

No, Draco would never go a night without the chance of seeing Harry in his dreams. The dreams reminded him and kept his hope alive. He would personally see to it that Harry got the chance to live.

"Draco, it isn't healthy to continue on the little sleep you are getting. You may be missing something in your research." Lupin's voice was grating on his nerves. His temper was invariably short since the final battle.

Draco pushed himself from the table and stormed out of the room. He didn't care how healthy he was. Harry was probably barely surviving! How could he live if Harry didn't? In the short amount of time they had been dating, Draco had fallen madly in love. It was weird how quickly they went from hating each other to passionately being lovers. At the thought of being cheesy, he agreed that there was a fine line between love and hate.

The room he stayed in was small, barely bigger than a large closet, with only a twin-sized bed. His room was the smallest in the house since he insisted on staying by himself. It was also the cleanest, devoid of any personal touches. _Harry would hate it_, Draco thought with a smirk. It wasn't the size that Harry would hate, but the cleanliness of it. It looked like no one lived there.

All his personal items were tucked away carefully and lovingly in his drawers. He didn't want anyone to see the photograph he had of Harry. It was the only one he possessed, and he treasured it with everything he had. It really was the only thing he had that was his before this whole mess. He hadn't been able to go home after the battle to gather his belongings, but he did salvage the photo from the pocket of his nearly ruined cloak.

He pulled the photo from its place and cradled it in his hands. Harry sat under a tree near the lake, scribbling furiously on a sheet of parchment. His tongue was pinched tightly between his teeth as he checked the book sitting beside him and continued to write. Draco had offered to help Harry with the Advanced Potions project, but the raven-haired boy awkwardly told his boyfriend he had finished it ages ago. Draco had taken the photo without Harry knowing, teasing him with it. Harry looked so cute, so innocent. Draco prayed to whatever god might be listening that his boyfriend still maintained that innocence even now. A personality like Harry's, despite everything he had been through, was a miracle.

He lay down on his bed, staring at the white ceiling, photo lying close to his heart. The sun coming through the window felt cold on his skin. Everything felt cold now.

The door creaked open, and Draco lifted his head to watch Severus enter. "Draco, it's time for you to stop being so melodramatic. I can't handle any more of this teenage angst."

Draco felt offended that his godfather thought he could just so easily turn off his feelings for Harry.

"Stop gaping like a fish. Get up." Severus grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him from the bed. The photo fluttered to the floor and landed halfway under the bed, causing Draco to panic.

"What? Sev, stop! Leave me alone!" Draco tried prying Severus's fingers from his arm, but the older man's grasp just tightened. He felt like a three year old being dragged to time out. Wherever Severus was taking him was someplace Draco didn't want to be. "Please, Sev! Just give me a minute!"

He was pulled wordlessly to the small dining room. Severus pushed him into a chair in front of a plate of steaming food.

"Eat," he said sharply, sitting down in his own place at the head of the table.

Draco stared sullenly at his plate, embarrassed that he had just been dragged like an insolent child. Someone cleared their throat, and Draco slowly looked up. His cheeks stained pink when he saw everyone else sitting around the table. Ginny, Bill, and Charlie Weasley, Bill's wife Fleur, Lupin and Draco's cousin Nymphadora, Mrs Weasley, and Severus were seated around him. All looked uncomfortable.

"This looks delicious, Mrs Weasley, thank you," Draco said quietly as he picked up his fork and began eating slowly.

Rounds of "Looks good," "Thanks, Mum," and "Smells amazing," circulated around the table. Everyone sounded and looked as exhausted as Draco felt, and he felt a twinge of guilt for not realizing how much everyone was being affected. It wasn't just himself.

Mrs Weasley, who usually looked on the verge of tears, was now just looking tired. Draco had to remember that her husband and youngest three sons were in Azkaban. She barely escaped before the aurors came in and tossed the Burrow. She managed to grab Ginny and apparate away just as they apparated in. Kingsley Shaklebolt had sent a frantic memo through the Floo as Mrs Weasley was preparing dinner. She dropped her spoon, yelled for Ginny, and left, never looking back or questioning the note.

She kept the note from Kingsley in her apron pocket and refused to show it to anyone. She said it just informed her of her husband's arrest and that he was sending similar notes to the rest of her children.

Charlie had been visiting Bill and his wife. She was now in the latter stages of pregnancy, having conceived when they first arrived. She was much quieter than she had been when Draco knew her at Hogwarts. She smiled, but it rarely reached her eyes, and Draco often wondered if she had inherited the rare Veela trait of being able to feel emotions. Draco pitied her for being forced into such a bleak situation when she should be the happiest she'd ever been in her life.

Lupin and Nymphadora had been married right before the final battle. They had gotten out during the battle when they realized what was happening. It took Lupin a long time to get over his survivor's guilt. He felt he should have been taken to Azkaban with everyone else he fought beside. It was Nymphadora who forced him to remember he could do Harry no good locked away beside him. Lupin had brought home the first books from a Muggle library.

All in all, they had become a patchwork family. They leaned on each other for support. Whenever one of them fell too deeply, the others were there to kick them in the rear.

Draco understood they were all there for him, and they were all hurting just as much as he was, but they couldn't understand how deeply Draco felt for Harry. None of them understood the relationship the two of them had. Harry had been there for him through everything. When Voldemort placed a bounty on Draco's head, Harry held him and swore he would never let anything happen.

Draco had shared everything about himself with Harry. And it was startling how easily it all came out. The years of abuse and brainwashing. The years of neglect. Draco had confidence, but when it came to love and relationships, Harry was the only one who could make him feel comfortable. He had always kept everyone at arm's length, but Harry easily got under his skin. Despite having a fair few lovers before Harry, Draco knew that this was it. He never wanted anyone more. He never wanted to defile a virgin as badly as he had Harry, and he longed to continue to patiently teach him everything he knew about sex for the rest of their very long lives.

He was a sap, but he was okay with that.

Draco had to grudgingly admit that after eating some of Mrs Weasley's roast and vegetables, he felt better. His stomach didn't feel quite so hollow. He felt some of his prior exhaustion leave with the introduction to real food to his system. The slightly crispy cooked carrots tasted like heaven. The roast beef was so tender that it practically melted in his mouth. Mrs Weasley was a superb cook.

"Excuse me, please." Everyone looked at him with a slight smile as Draco stood, carried his plate to the sink, washed it by hand, and returned to his research. He felt much better after having eaten.

The books were exactly how he had left them. He pulled a pillow from the nearby sofa and sat on it on his chair. Not having magic was a pain in his arse, but if it kept everyone living under the roof safe, then he would comply. It wasn't just about him any longer. He had eight other people he felt responsible for in the house alone. It didn't even count Harry and the rest of the Order in prison.

Harry's influence on Draco was baffling. Slytherins didn't care about anyone but number one. The house was all about self-preservation. In the year and a half that Harry had been a significant part of his life, Draco acted more like a Hufflepuff than a Slytherin. It was disgusting.

Maybe he was looking at this whole situation the wrong way. They weren't getting anywhere with their research. If they didn't hurry, fighting would be pointless. He hoped everyone locked away hadn't gone crazy yet.

With a sudden inspiration, Draco pulled a history book off the shelves. The castle of Azkaban painted on the cover looked decrepit and depressing. He had read the book before, but not with the purpose he now possessed. This time, reading it, he looked for clues, holes in the stories.

He wondered how he could get a map or an architectural plan for the prison. Even a spell plan would be beneficial. He needed to find a way in and possibly out of the prison.

Severus joined him as he was frantically searching for more books on Azkaban. "What are you looking for?"

"What if we can get them out?"

"What do you mean, Draco?"

Draco turned from the bookshelves with a thin book of maps of the Island of Azkaban. He looked contemplatively at his godfather. "Harry's godfather escaped." At Severus's raised eyebrows, he continued quickly. "I know it was because he was an animagus, but legend says that the spells on the island hold _everything _in. Dementors, bats, people. So how did Black escape? How did he get off the island in order to swim to Scotland?"

"What if there is a time of day or something when the spells are either at their weakest or are altogether non-existent? Possibly during the change of shift for the gate guards?"

Draco crossed his arms and slouched in his chair. He pulled at his lower lip with his thumb and first finger, a habit he had picked up from Harry. His mind was running circles, chasing vague ideas, but for the first time in a long time, he felt a surge of hope that wasn't just fleeting. He would break in to Azkaban and help Harry escape as Sirius Black had escaped years before. With Harry by his side, Draco knew he could accomplish anything, and getting the rest of the Order released would be a breeze.

* * *

**A/N: Please review. **Let me know what you think. Is Draco too much OOC or do the circumstances he's in make him more realistic? I'd love to know what your favorite parts are, what you think needs to be improved. Any constructive feedback would be great and very beneficial to me as a writer.

Thanks to all who have reviewed and/or added me to their lists! I appreciate every one.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 – The Minister's Visit**

Harry jerked awake. He was still laying on the icy flagstones, and his memories of the past day, at least he thought it was a day, flooded the forefront of his mind. His body was stiff and so sore, but more concerning was the sucking on his chest and the tickling feeling he was getting in his lower belly. He was curled protectively around the baby, shivering as the ice cold of the flagstone floors pierced his side. Slowly, taking note of his body's feelings… the sting in his groin—nowhere near what it had been—the weakness of his limbs, the lethargy he felt overall… he watched the baby curiously. He gasped as the sucking tweaked his nipple harshly.

"Ow!" He pushed himself up and gently pulled the baby from his chest.

A milky liquid trailed from the baby's greedy, sucking mouth and down his tiny chin. Harry was fascinated. He balanced the baby in one arm and used his free hand to rub at his swollen nipple trying to rid it of the intense aching that the baby's gums had caused. It was wet and very sensitive, but Harry couldn't be sure it was _his body_ that produced the milk the baby had been drinking. He knew deep down that it couldn't be anything else, but it was so unimaginable. He was having a hard time accepting that he had given birth, and now his body was feeding that new life?

Slowly, experimentally, and with a lot of awkwardness, Harry passed the newborn to his other arm and carefully raised the baby's head to his chest again, giving his swollen nipple a break for the other one.

The baby latched on hard, sucking as if he were starving. _He probably was_, Harry contemplated. Afterall, who knew how long it had been since Harry had passed out after the birth. He was still amazed and highly confused at the miracle. How had he, _a man_, carried and given birth to a living, breathing child? It was completely baffling.

He laid back, the soreness and strain easing a bit as he curled into a fetal position again. He was freezing, but the fiery heat of the baby's skin against his chest warded off some of the chill deep in his bones and soul. He hoped he was producing enough heat to keep the baby warm as well.

Long moments and the sounds of suckling passed, lulling Harry into a trance. He stared at the grimy, grey wall, not really seeing it as his mind raced with more thoughts than he had had in months. The fluttering in his lower belly he was feeling now was how he felt when Draco stared at him. The love so plainly written in his eyes always made Harry go weak in the knees. Now, though, it was not a look that was giving him that feeling, but the baby's suckling. Is this what a woman felt when she was breastfeeding? That was what Harry was doing, wasn't it?

How could he be _breastfeeding_? He was so confused. He stared down his chest at the tiny, too thin infant clinging to his chest with hands smaller than a galleon. The baby was still tinged red from dried blood and dry mucus coated his skin. Forcing himself to get up, Harry slowly hobbled three steps to the small sink across the cell. His genitalia still burned slightly, nothing like it used to. He still felt weak; his legs were shaking trying to support his weight, and he felt like he was going to pass out from the dizziness and lightheadedness of being upright.

He was so thirsty that he spent a couple minutes just filling and refilling his metal cup as he drained each one dry. The baby was still latched securely to his chest. When his thirst was somewhat sated, he picked up his grimy washrag, rinsing it a few times with his free hand before bringing it down on the baby's skin.

The child started and whimpered, pulling away from Harry's nipple. His glossy eyes watched wearily as Harry set to cleaning his delicate, pale skin. After a while, the baby was fairly clean and shivering from the light coating of cool water over his pink skin.

Harry wrapped him in his dirty blanket several times, then cradled him against his chest again, wrapping both arms securely around him to try and pass on some warmth. He was feeling better every passing moment, the stinging ache diminishing to a dull throbbing between his legs and in his lower abdomen.

He paced his small cell, not worrying that he was still completely naked. His Azkaban-issued tunic was covered in blood, and he didn't want the filth to touch the child. Everything in the cell was disgusting and dirty. How was he going to take care of this baby without anything? He barely had a water-source. He definitely didn't have a flushing toilet. Worrying for his baby's health, Harry dismissed the lightheaded feeling and trembling legs. He needed help. He needed to get out of here, but that was impossible in his condition.

A sharp crack startled Harry and his heart pounded in his chest, feeling desperate because he didn't have time to hide the baby. Inside the door to his cell stood a house elf that was much smaller and more malnourished than Dobby had ever been.

"Elf!" Harry gasped, scaring the small creature. It nearly dropped the tray of food. "Please! 'Elp!"

The elf's ears bobbed, and he quickly set down the tray, trembling in fear as he backed up slowly.

Harry knew the elf was a second from disappearing again. "Please! You 'ave to 'elp," Harry rasped through a hoarse voice. He couldn't remember the last time he had spoken and the croaky mess his voice was now was embarrassing.

Looking torn, the house elf looked back and forth between Harry, unclothed and filthy, holding a bundle of soiled blankets, and the door it was standing in front of. "Fossy just ch-check t-t-to see i-i-i-if prisoner still live." The elf was trembling violently, a sure sign that it was horrifically abused.

Harry slowed down his breathing and softened his expression from the panic he knew he showed. "Fossy, please. I need your 'elp. You're the only one who can." He swallowed hard, trying to ease the ache in his throat. His voice was fading in and out like a badly tuned radio.

"F-Fossy c-can't, s-s-s-sir. Fo-ossy not all-allowed t-to be s-s-seed." The elf launched itself across the cell and began beating its head against the wall violently.

Harry stumbled over to it and pulled it forcibly away. "St-stop! Please, F-fossy, I just need clean clothes an' blankets. Tha's all. Please."

The elf's eyes went impossibly wide as Harry tipped his arms just enough to show the sleeping newborn. "'E needs something clean."

The elf trembled more before popping from the room without a word. Harry hoped it would be enough. He hoped the elf would be caring enough to provide him with what the baby needed. Harry walked over to the side of his tiny cell reserved for his pallet and slid down the wall, still holding the baby tightly to his chest.

Harry studied him closely, still completely overwhelmed. This tiny person had come out of his body. This living, breathing, moving being had grown and matured inside him.

He lovingly trailed a finger down the baby's soft cheek. The baby was sleeping soundly, his breathing deep and even. Harry's finger brushed delicately over the dark eyelashes and eyebrows, the veiny eyelids, he knew, covering grey-blue eyes. A thin covering of matted black hair covered the baby's tiny skull. Harry wished he could give him a real bath with soap. The mucus and blood had barely came out of his hair; it was caked so thickly.

He ran his hand gently over his baby's hair despite the mess that it was. He imagined the hair beneath was just as soft as the baby's skin.

The baby arched and kicked a little before wiggling and settling again. Harry needed to come up with a name for his baby. He knew in a normal situation, he and Draco would be sitting closely together, their faces buried in baby name books like every other couple in history. They would have had a name picked out months ago. Looking over his son, whose features were distinctly Draco, Harry felt his cold heart warming and growing like Dr. Seuss's Grinch. It had been so long since he had felt something more than hopelessness and despair.

Harry unwrapped a tiny hand from the dirty blankets. He took it, delicately pressing his thumb against the tiny fingers until they curled around the offending digit. The fingernails were so tiny that they seemed almost nonexistent. His little fingers were pink and strong around his thumb. Bringing his head down, he kissed the baby's hand, letting his lips linger on his tender skin. He felt tears pricking behind his eyes.

This baby was a miracle. He was Harry's miracle, his hope, like a fire in the Arctic.

"Aidan," Harry whispered to himself, not knowing where the name came from. Somehow, the name he had only heard once, the Seeker for the Irish National Quidditch Team before his fourth year, fit the baby.

A soft pop across his cell had him looking up from the baby. A thin mattress, a pile of soft blankets, towels and washrags, a small metal tub of steaming water, and a bottle of baby soap appeared magically. Harry breathed with relief, almost shedding tears at the break he was being given. "Thank you, Fossy," he whispered shakily.

He carried his baby to the basin and took his time washing him gently. Aidan barely awoke, his eyelids fluttering open to reveal soft grey before closing again. He sighed sweetly and brought his tiny, clean fist into his mouth.

Harry laid Aidan on a towel and dried him thoroughly. Ten little fingers, ten tiny toes. Two perfect, soft feet and hands. He had a perfect button where the cord had been. His torso was very thin, each rib showing. Harry knew it was because he had been so sick for so long, throughout his entire pregnancy, and he never got enough to eat, so now Aidan was suffering. Hopefully he would be able to remedy that if his body continued to produce milk. He would have to make sure to eat well.

A small, soft fleece blanket was on top of the pile, so Harry used it to wrap the baby. He wished he could have some nappies or something, even if he wouldn't know what to do with one other than attempt to get it to stay on. Getting back to his feet, Harry limped to his tray of cold food. Usually, by this time, a house elf would have taken it back to the kitchens, uneaten.

He forced himself to choke down the stale bread and ham. A piece of cheddar cheese finished his meal. It was disgusting, but by eating it, he was nourishing his body to feed his baby.

Harry had yet to put Aidan down without touching him. It was fascinating and amazing and fantastical and miraculous.

There was another soft pop and a stack of small cloths and clips. Cloth nappies? Harry moved over and, craddling Aidan in his left arm, picked one up and shook it out. It was a thick, white, rectangle cloth. _Of course,_ Harry sighed to himself. Knowing he needed to learn to assemble the nappy as soon as possible, he reluctantly laid Aidan down on the mattress and covered him with a thick blanket.

The baby grunted, but settled quickly, and Harry set to the delicate task of teaching himself how to fold a nappy. He first folded the long rectangle in half lengthway. He studied the cloth, trying to determine the most effective way to fold it as if he were playing chess. Each move option was carefully considered before he folded it in half diagonally making it into an awkward triangle. He paused again, staring at the cloth. It was still way too large to fit on Aidan's petit body the way it was now. That wasn't going to work.

Tediously, he folded and refolded the cloth, losing himself in the task. It was soothing to be doing something worthwhile for a change. For so long, his life had meant nothing, but now, he was taking care of another life, putting Aidan's well-being before his own. He finally folded it just right to make it work with the clips and the nappy cover that came with the stack.

Aidan had woken sometime during the diapering process, but he didn't cry and barely fidgeted. The grey-blue eyes of his son stared at him with a knowledge Harry didn't think a newborn would possess. Harry scooped him up carefully and awkwardly again, pulling him to his chest. He wanted to make sure Aidan got food whenever he may want it.

The baby latched on to Harry's flat chest and greedily sucked. His hand went up to curl right above his mouth on Harry's skin. Aidan's fingers would straighten and curl, straighten and curl, and Harry couldn't stop watching him. He was so beautiful. He looked so much like Draco. His nose was small and thin with a slight upturn at the end. Harry always joked that it was snobby. It looked perfect in the center of Aidan's thin, angular face. His cheekbones were high and surprisingly round for his body's emaciated state. The only thing Harry could see that was distinctly him besides the black hair covering the baby's head was Aidan's cute lips. Draco always made fun of Harry's baby lips, so thin he said he would run his thumb over them "to find them" before he would kiss Harry.

Aidan looked up at him, staring back just as intensely as Harry was staring at the baby. Draco's eyes stared at him through their son. He felt the most connected to his lost love than he had in a long time. Again, he longed for Draco's love, but hoped he was happy. His self-sacrificial personality was getting the better of him. As much as he wanted Draco, he wanted him to be happy even more. His thoughts contradicted his heart, though. With Aidan, Harry would always have an intimate connection with Draco even if he had found someone to move on with.

As the days passed, more quickly than Harry remembered them passing, he and Aidan learned one another. Aidan hardly ever fussed unless he needed his nappy changed. He was a happy baby, always cooing and babbling, grabbing and kicking. Harry's awkwardness in holding him completely disappeared. He rarely put his son down, but Aidan was more than happy to cuddle up against his father's chest.

A bath appeared every four days, along with clean cloth for nappies, towels, washrags, and blankets. Keeping a clean nappy on his son was tedious. He always had a wet nappy, and Harry often laughed at him and tickled him, joking that he was worse than a leaky faucet. Having Aidan made every day so much more than anything was before. Harry was happy most of the time. He was talking again, slowly working the rust out of his vocal cords. His voice was nearly the pitch and smoothness of a sore throat, which was a huge improvement over the adolescent croak he had when speaking with the elf.

The pain he had experienced from childbirth had completely vanished. The tear in his perineum was healed and everything seemed to be back to normal. He was feeling stronger after eating every meal he was given, but he knew his strength was nothing what it was before he was imprisoned. His cell was only six by ten small paces, so his leg muscles were suffering. He felt his arm muscles strengthening, though, with always holding and carrying Aidan.

It wasn't only Harry who was doing better, either. Aidan had gained a lot of weight. He felt double as heavy as he was when he was born. You could no longer count every rib on his tiny body, and his bony arms were thickening. He was growing more and more handsome with each gram he gained. He was becoming more alert as well. He liked to play wiggle and smile games. His face was very expressive, and Harry realized he had also gotten that from himself. Snape always berated him for showing too much of his emotions during his Occlumency lessons.

Harry carefully kept tally of the number of days that had passed since Aidan's birth. He wanted to know exactly how long it had been so that if he ever got out, Aidan could know his birthday. He assumed he had only been unconscious for a few hours.

Harry was marking Aidan's fifteenth day of life. His son was sleeping soundly on the bare mattress beside him after stuffing himself from Harry's body. It still amazed him he was breastfeeding his son without any breasts.

A loud screeching scraping noise, indicative of the heavy steel door at the end of the hallway, made Harry's blood run cold and his heart pound frantically in his chest. A soul-chilling cold began creeping into his cell from the hallway. Was it already a month since Fudge's last visit?

Harry quickly gathered the blankets and piled most of them in the corner. He scooped up Aidan wrapped in his warm fleece blanket, the baby starting to tremble from the effect of the dementor. He carried him to the pallet, hidden by shadows and the mattress. He felt his magic building with his panic. He pushed it into his fingertips and ran them over Aidan's face. The warm, soothing sleep spell he felt working, calmed the baby's hitching breath.

His magic had been slowly coming back and he had been exercising it with little things like lighting up his fingertips with a _lumos_. He now thanked whatever god that he had been practicing, otherwise he may not have been able to pull off the fourth year sleep spell quite so easily.

He covered Aidan with the extra, thick blanket. He made sure Aidan could still breathe but couldn't be seen easily, then he turned from his baby. Harry was struggling to breathe as his worst memories began filtering through his mind. His scar was burning fiercely, an aftereffect of the final battle. His worst fear: If his scar hurt, it meant Voldemort was alive and well, and that thought terrified Harry more than dying in his tiny cell. The pain was slowly increasing to what it had been during the battle. The ripping of Voldemort's magic from Harry's soul had felt like torture. The searing pain blinded him with its fierceness.

A hot cattle prod was searing through the sensitive skin on his forehead, and Harry felt like he was going to vomit.

The wall in front of him, solid stone with a thick steel door, vanished. It was replaced with the steel bars that originally held him in. It was Fudge's decision to enclose Harry completely.

"Ah, Mr Pott- I mean, Prisoner 3327," the Minister said jovially, his hands folding together in front of his portly body. In his fingers, he loosely gripped a vial of green potion.

Harry, with teeth gritted against the pain, replied, "Minister." He felt like his legs were going to give out at any second. He knew the dementor was stationed at the open door at the end of the long hallway, but it just being this close was affecting him more than he ever wanted it to. His weak stomach was revolting.

"You know what this potion is," Fudge sing-songed. Of course Harry knew what the potion was. It was the same potion he was taunted with every visit from the Minister. It was a suppressing potion, concocted to suppress the effects of dementors, hence why Fudge was able to retain his sneering cheer around him.

Harry was struggling to remain standing, and he wasn't listening to Fudge any longer. The man was as annoying as Draco had been in Madame Malkins before their first year. He acted like a petulant, spoiled brat.

The Minister continued to babble about life outside the walls of Azkaban, how Ernie MacMillan's father Roger was still fighting to get the "heroes of Hogwarts" released. He always bragged about the things he was doing to ensure Harry and his friends remained locked up.

Harry wasn't sure how long it had been since the Minister arrived, but he finally lost his battle against the dementor and fell heavily to his knees, retching everything he had eaten that day. He missed the Minister's smug smirk and the fact that the man stopped talking. He knew from experience that once he started vomiting from the effects of the dementors, he wasn't going to stop until the ghastly creature had left.

"Very well, I'm glad you are learning your lesson. This is your punishment for trying to get me out of office. By now, you should know that a silly little boy like you will never win." Fudge's voice was low and sneering. He sounded a lot like many of the Death Eaters who had taunted Harry at one point in his short 18 years of life.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief when he stopped vomiting. The chill was leaving the air, but Harry continued to tremble uncontrollably. He coughed several times, his throat swollen and irritated from bile. He weakly crawled to the mattress and slid under the thick blanket trying to regain some warmth and security. Before passing out, he pulled Aidan's warm body flush against his shaking one.

It took him five days to feel fully recovered from the dementor. Harry didn't think much on the Minister's words. They were always the same. He accused Harry of trying to overthrow him from his position, always explained in burlesque tones.

Aidan seemed to understand his father's feelings because the child, who usually liked to wiggle and giggle, who was very active and awake for being barely over two weeks old, was perfectly happy to cuddle against his father's chest. Aidan didn't cry or fuss at all during those few days. He grunted when he was dirtying his nappy, croaked when it was too wet for his tastes, and stuck his fingers in his mouth when he was hungry.

It took eight days for Harry to find the access to his magic again. Having his magic accessible, made life so much easier. He was able to make his food more edible by heating it or casting a freshening charm. He bet no one knew a freshening charm worked well on food. He knew no one needed to know that little fact. He was able to clean Aidan's wet nappies by a simple wave of his hand. He was also able to keep Aidan very entertained with a small light show, and the dark just wasn't quite so dark when he was able to keep a small ball of light huddling near the mattress.

Fudge must have been distracted when he left Harry, he mused, because the wall was no longer solid. The fresher air flowing through his cell lightened his mood as well. He felt a lot less sick than before. His sinuses were clearing up. His head didn't hurt quite as much as usual. It was amazing what opening his cell to an enclosed hallway did.

Aidan was a fun baby. He loved to be held and cuddled, but he had just as much fun "flying" through the air. It was the latter that Harry was doing when he heard the crunch of a boot on a loose stone not far down the hall from his cell.

He froze instantly. His back was to the cell bars, and Aidan was still cradled on his stomach across Harry's arm. He couldn't breathe. If it was a guard, Aidan would be exposed. Casting a disillusionment charm on Aidan was out of the question as well. He wasn't able to perform advanced wandless magic, and he didn't want to even test it on his baby.

The boot scuffed the floor again, and Harry knew he was in trouble. Aidan wasn't going to be a secret any longer. They would probably take him from Harry and possibly even kill the baby. He wouldn't put murder past Fudge. He tried to subtly curl his arms towards his chest, protecting Aidan as little as he could.

Harry's heart was in his throat, just waiting to get yelled at and his secret fully exposed. His shoulders were hunched over his child.

"Harry?" His voice was whispered through a shaky, familiar voice, and he turned towards the bars and gasped.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the cliffie, but I just couldn't see this chapter ending any other way without adding 200 more pages in explanation LOL.

Thank you all for your reviews and please leave a new one. What do you think about the story so far?

Also, I've had questions about the conception and carrying of the baby. I have an idea of how I'd like to explain it, but I'd love to know if anyone has anything more original. If I use your idea, you'll receive credit as dedication in the next or the following chapter (depending on when I explain it). So please press the little review button at the bottom and make my life amazing.

Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4—Through the Bars**

**A/N:** Wow, you guys are completely amazing! Thanks so much for all the love shown for the last chapter. It brings a huge smile to my face. Thanks also for your ideas on the pregnancy. It's not explained in this chapter, but will be in the next, so if anyone else has any ideas, I'll consider them, and if it's good enough and unique enough, I'll pick one and dedicate the chapter to you.

"Oh my God," Draco gasped. His body began trembling uncontrollably as he stared in at his lover holding a small baby. He curled his fingers around the bars separating him from the man he loved, unable to keep his legs supporting his body weight. He felt faint and shaky and he dropped to his knees. Harry rushed from the center of the cell to the bars and fell in front of Draco, cradling the baby in one arm, his other hand coming to cover over one of Draco's, taking his attention from the child. Draco's eyes moved, then, from the black-haired baby to his love's eyes. "Harry?" his voice asked, barely above a whisper.

Draco watched as Harry fell apart, big, fat tears forming in his eyes, then rolling down his cheeks. Harry's hand disappeared, and the baby was brought up like a stuffed animal, its soft-looking hair under Harry's cheek before his love began sobbing harshly. He was clutching tightly to the baby, shaking his head in denial when Draco saw that the child was awake. It had turned its head against Harry's neck, blinking big, grey eyes. Its too tiny hand came up and fisted against Harry's collarbone.

He felt tears pricking his eyes and realized he was just as close to falling apart as Harry. For so long, he had been struggling to keep his emotions in check in a house full of once enemies. He reached blindly for his lover and gasped when Harry grabbed his hand tightly. His tears blurred his vision as Harry brought his side flush against the bars, trying in vain to get as close to Draco as possible. The baby was held against Harry's chest by an arm as Harry wrapped his other tightly around Draco through the bars.

He didn't hesitate. With a sob, Draco grabbed Harry roughly, slinking his arms around his back, around the baby and clutched the back of the scratchy tunic before letting out his bottled up emotions and crying. His face was smashed against the bar, but more importantly, his lips were pressed to Harry's shoulder.

At some point, they both had fallen to sit in awkward positions on the cold floor, crying for all either of them were worth until they had no more tears. Harry continued sobbing as Draco's tapered off. Harry's forehead was now cradled between two bars, his nose pressed to Draco's shoulder. Draco let him cry, running his fingers through Harry's greasy hair. He was too awed to speak as he watched the baby in Harry's arms watch him.

He had at first dismissed the baby from his thoughts other than to be happy that Harry wasn't completely alone, but now that he had time to think about it, he couldn't deny that the child looked like his lover. Sure, the eyes were grey, but they were Harry's big, almond shape. Its hair was soft and smooth like Harry's; he knew from running his hand over its head a few times as he continued to comfort Harry. And those lips were all Harry. They were so tiny and thin. His skin matched Harry's flawlessly: smooth, soft, olive-toned, and unblemished. Even the soft pinkish blush on the baby's cheeks was matched in Harry's.

"His name is Aidan," Harry whispered, startling Draco from his studying of the baby. He hadn't realized his lover had stopped crying, but he snapped his head up and made eye contact. Harry sniffled, wiped his nose and eyes with his sleeve, and brought the baby closer for Draco's study.

Draco had no words. He couldn't push out the many questions he had. Where did he come from? Whose child was he? How did Harry get him? How did he take care of the baby in the cell? It wasn't even fit for a dog to live in. Why did the child look so much like Harry? How old was he?

He knew his questions must have shown in his eyes. When Harry's eyes met his unwavering ones again, he took a deep breath, shifted into a more comfortable position, and sighed. Draco shifted too, fearing a long story, and gripped Harry's free hand tightly on Harry's knee.

Harry shifted his gaze back down to the baby in his arms and gave a little half smile. The baby was beginning to open and close his mouth almost as if he was a girl blotting lipstick. "I don't know how it happened, but he's ours." Harry pulled up one side of his tunic before Draco had even registered the words "he's ours" and let the baby latch on to his chest with his tiny lips.

"Wha-what?" Draco wrenched his eyes from the sight of the baby sucking on Harry's chest to meet his lover's eyes again.

"He's ours, Dray. I-I gave birth t-to him. I don't know how it happened or why it happened, but I'm glad it did."

"He's _ours_?" Draco knew he sounded like a complete idiot, but he couldn't wrap his mind around those two words. How could he be theirs? How could Harry and Draco be fathers to a baby? And Harry said he gave _birth_? It was unheard of!

Harry smiled a little patronizingly and gazed down at the baby's head. "He's yours, and he's mine. He's ours," he spoke slowly, as if to a toddler, then continued faster, excitedly. "I couldn't believe it either. I thought I was dying and about to have some kind of tumor kill me. I knew I wasn't going to live much longer the way I was going. I hadn't eaten more than a few nibbles in weeks, and I was in so much pain and vomiting constantly. I was just praying to die quickly."

Draco felt sick to his stomach as Harry was describing how he thought he might have died. His grip on the back on Harry's neck tightened. How could he have gone on if Harry had died? He was so thankful for the child who had brought life back to his love. He delicately ran his hand over the baby's—Aidan's—head. His little lips were working over Harry's nipple, and curious, Draco watched. "What is he doing?"

"Nursing. I-I didn't even know a man could do that!" Harry's eyes widened comically, and Draco snorted.

"I didn't know a man could give birth to a baby," he replied dryly. How had it happened? He'd have to ask Severus when he returned to the cottage. He knew, watching his lover with _their son_, it was going to be so hard to leave the two still behind the bars. Draco felt the heavy weight of loss already, though he still had three hours with the pair.

Harry seemed to sense his mood because his own changed from incredulous excitement to serious and slightly hopeless. "You're not here to get us out, are you?" His eyes cast down to look at Aidan, and his free hand moved from Draco's leg to the baby's small fist.

Draco felt a pang at Harry's tone and the loss of his hand, but instead gripped tightly to the hair at the nape of his lover's neck. "Not yet," he whispered, his voice thick with sadness. "I'm testing my theory and diagnosing the wards around your cell. They are complicated, and it's going to take a little time to work out a counter without setting off the alarms surrounding this place. I can feel the wards in the air. I can feel the tingling surrounding my magic."

Interested, Harry shifted closer to Draco. "What do you mean feel them?"

"Severus created a potion that would allow me empathetic feelings for magic. We assumed the prison would have alarms against the use of foreign magic. To be a prison guard, you have to get your magical signature registered in the Ministry and be keyed into the wards surrounding Azkaban." He looked down from Harry's face and watched in awe as his own hand petted his _son's_ soft head. "There's a dampening charm on my magic to make sure I don't use it on accident."

Aidan was asleep now, his lips still sucking at Harry's nipple passively. He sighed and grunted when Draco's hand first came down on his head, but his bright, grey eyes didn't open.

"I'm not going to be able to leave," Draco whispered regretfully, tears again stinging his eyes. He looked up at Harry through blurry vision.

Together, they leaned towards one another and met in the middle for an awkward kiss, the cold steel bars keeping them from deepening it. Draco tightened his hand at the nape of Harry's neck and tangled some strands of oily, dirty hair between his fingers. He maintained his firm grip on his lover's head, not wanting to relinquish this desperate attempt to be what they once were, to be together.

They pulled away from the kiss and wiped at each other's cheeks. "I love you," Harry whispered, swiping at a fresh tear that traced down Draco's face. He leaned his forehead against the bars as Draco watched his internal struggle. "Don't worry about us. Find a way to get us out of here. We'll be okay until you come for us again."

It broke Draco's heart to hear Harry's false bravery. Just like the prat to always try to be the brave one. Draco slid his hand under Harry's chin and lifted his face to meet his own. He kissed him chastely. "I will be back, Harry. Now that I know how to get in, I will be back as often as possible. I love you, and I won't stop worrying about you. My life doesn't go on without you, without Aidan."

Harry smiled through his tears. "Let's stop being so sappy," he said, forcing a half-laugh. "How much longer do you have?"

"An hour and a half."

"Good. I want to hear about everything going on outside this place." With practiced ease, Harry eased Aidan away from his chest, pulled his tunic back down, then settled the baby in his arms again.

For the next hour, Draco told him everything that was going on outside Azkaban. He explained the current political situation (no one would even attempt to oust Fudge because the last three who tried or talked about trying wound up dead), the small steps they were making to get the "Heroes of Hogwarts" names cleared, and his current living arrangements and how they came to be.

"Remus and Tonks are living with you?" Harry asked. His voice held such hope and excitement that Draco couldn't help but grin.

"Yes. And might I add that they are quite loud sometimes." As Draco expected, Harry blushed bright red, but the smile didn't leave his face. "My cousin has a pretty nice diamond on her finger. An old family heirloom, I'm told."

Harry gasped happily. "They're engaged?"

"Yup."

"I'm so happy for Remus. She's perfect for him. She keeps him in line and reminds him that he's a real person, not a blood-thirsty monster like he's always been forced to think. So what else?"

Draco smiled sadly as he looked back at his son. "Fleur is pregnant. She hadn't had time to tell anyone before the final battle and the time it took for you to get sent here."

Harry smiled brightly. "So why do you look like someone kicked your puppy."

"Just thinking. I missed so much already with Aidan. I wasn't here for you like Bill is for her. You didn't get to be laid up in bed, pampered and catered to like you should have. I didn't get to rush out to a muggle grocer's at closing time to buy a pint of ice cream to settle your cravings."

"Dray," Harry interrupted patronizingly. "I didn't go through any of what she's probably going through, remember. I thought I had a tumor growing in me. I didn't know I was pregnant until I delivered him. I missed everything as well. Don't be upset about it. Neither of us knew men could get pregnant."

Harry stood and carried Aidan to the mattress, then returned to Draco and wrapped both arms as well as he could around him. The bars were really annoying, and Draco wished he could just banish them and properly snog the daylights out of his lover. Even through the discomfort, Draco still managed to push his face hard against the bars and deepen their kiss.

The moan from deep in Harry's throat made Draco's long neglected cock twitch with desire. _Oh God_, it had been too long without Harry. Harry's hands tangled roughly in Draco's hair, keeping their mouths together. Draco thrust his knee between the bars, between Harry's legs before he was painfully halted by the cold steel on his own crotch. Frustrated, Draco withdrew his leg and frantically grabbed at Harry's loose, thin cotton trousers just needing the comfort that being with his lover like this could provide. Draco pushed down Harry's trousers and grabbed his cock.

Harry gasped into Draco's mouth when Draco's hand started working to harden the flaccid length. He writhed and moaned as if it was his first time again, making Draco impossibly turned on despite the situation. God, Harry was so sexy.

When Harry's hands grabbed his jean-covered arse tightly, Draco moaned loudly, having to pull his mouth away so he could breathe. "God," he gasped as he rutted against the bar. His legs felt like they were going to give out from the relief of being with Harry, but he maintained his steady squeezing and pulling, using Harry's body and the bars to keep him upright. His fingers slid smoothly over Harry's soft skin, wet with pre-come. Unable to stand it any longer, Draco wrenched his mouth from Harry's and fell to his knees. His cock twitched hard as he dropped to eye level with the cock he had been dreaming of for seven long months.

He grabbed his lover's erection with one hand and quickly took the length into his mouth, moaning with the pleasure of finally tasting Harry again. Fingers twisted painfully in his hair, but Draco ignored the sting and slid his mouth as far down his lover's cock as possible.

He used the flat of his tongue on the underside of Harry's length and the hands tightened impossibly in his hair. Only Harry was allowed to mess with his hair. "Love you," Draco whispered against Harry's cock before sliding the tip of his tongue through the slit, licking up more of the dripping pre-come.

"Fuck, Dray," Harry gasped, bucking uncontrollably. The cock in Draco's mouth twitched and pulsed in time with Harry's rapid pulse. When a sharp, unexpected thrust nearly choked Draco, he gripped Harry's hips to hold him still.

He took a quick rhythm, licking up the vein on the underside, sliding his mouth nearly to the hilt and sucking deeply, eliciting a deep moan from his lover. He'd run his tongue through the slit, squeeze the base, and swirl his tongue over the crown. Harry's legs were quivering under his hands and Draco knew he needed to finish before he fell.

Harry's cock tightened in his mouth and magic erupted around Draco. Gasping, he released Harry to look around in a panic, thinking someone was coming. The magic flooded over him, and he suddenly knew without a doubt it was Harry's. The erotic tingling sent sparks straight to his cock. He felt a tight squeeze around his balls and hurried to bring Harry off before he lost himself.

It didn't take long for Harry's toes to curl. Draco fondled Harry's balls, his own erection throbbing in sync with the trembling magic around him. Draco groaned around Harry's cock as Harry shouted, and his come shot hotly down Draco's throat. Without warning, his own erection exploded in hot spurts. Flashes of light danced behind his eyes as he released Harry and fell back on his heels. He panted heavily, and Harry grabbed his shoulders to pull him closer again.

They spent several long moments on the floor, just holding one another before Harry regained his breath with a soft chuckle. "Did you come?" he asked incredulously.

Draco could only nod as his vision slowly came back. He was giggling soon after, feeling so giddy and light-hearted. He had come without being touched. And he had come hard. He felt like a cat with a fresh bowl of cream, and he smiled smugly into Harry's shoulder.

"Amazing," Draco sighed, feeling boneless as he leaned against Harry.

Harry wasn't fairing much better. He had a soppy, stupid grin on his face, and his chest was still heaving. Harry's lips were against Draco's hair as he began speaking in soft, serious tones. "I thought I'd never experience that again. Every time I'd think about our last time together and start to get hard, I'd get such a horrible pain in my stomach that I'd roll onto my side and not be able to move for hours. I thought I was broken, thought I was going to die."

Draco grabbed Harry tightly, wrapping his arms around his middle and pressing his freshly wet eyes against Harry's arm. "You're not broken, you're alive," he whispered, reassuring himself as much as he hoped to reassure Harry.

Draco took a quick glance at his wristwatch, knowing it was close to shift change. The guards on Azkaban only worked 4 hour shifts every 2 days because the effects of the dementors were too much and many of them had killed themselves in the early 80s.

He sighed deeply as he slowly pulled himself from Harry, feeling tears pricking his eyes again. "I have to go," he whispered. "I won't leave you here forever. I'll be back for you and Aidan."

"I love you," Harry croaked, the lump in his throat growing with the stinging in the corners of his eyes. He kissed Draco chastely. He got up, gathered the sleeping Aidan wrapped in his blanket, and brought him back to the bars.

Draco grabbed the newborn's tiny hand and brought it slowly to his lips. The baby's skin was so soft and smooth. He knew without a doubt that he would do whatever he could to get his lover and son released from prison. He ran his hand softly over the downy hair before forcing himself to stand.

He pulled at his uncomfortable trousers, trying to alleviate some of the sticky discomfort in his pants.

Harry stood as well, cradling their sleeping son to his chest and leaned against the bars. He was already crying, big, silent tears running down his pale cheeks.

"Come here," Draco whispered, using his hands to guide Harry's face to his again. As their lips touched, they both started crying openly.

Harry deepened the kiss for a moment before pulling away. "Go," he gasped through a sob.

Draco picked up the invisibility cloak and glanced longingly at Harry once more before he disappeared from sight and silently made his way back down the hall from where he came.

* * *

**A/N:** Please review! I read and try to respond to every one of them.

Does anyone have any ideas for middle names? I've got one, but it kind of doesn't sound like it goes. I would love to see if anyone can come up with something unique, so please submit your ideas with name meanings because that is going to play a big part in Aidan's character.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**A/N**: Here's the part you've all been waiting for. What is the explanation for Harry's pregnancy?

I'd like to thank Fallen-Petals15 and Molto Alesato for your inputs on the MPREG question. Hope this works out to your liking.

* * *

Draco felt nauseous and shaky as he squeezed between the wards near the Apparition point. He stuck to the shadows despite being covered by Harry's invisibility cloak. He had left Harry and his son to fend for themselves for who knows how long. He felt like the worst lover and the worst father in the world. Taking in a stuttered breath, he moved from the shadows as the last guard apparated from the island. He had exactly one minute thirty seconds before the wards sealed again, and he would be stuck here for another four hours.

He hesitated then shook his head harshly. "I can't stay here." He let out a rush of breath and turned on the spot.

When the squeezing, pressurized feeling ended, Draco let his knees give out, and he sat back on his heels. His hands covered his face as he sobbed just inside the property line two miles from the house. He was surrounded by trees and tall grass and hoped no one would find him.

He hadn't told Harry that he had been to see the cells on the lower floor where his friends were kept. He hadn't told Harry that dementors stalked up and down the hallways constantly. He hadn't told Harry that Ron didn't recognize him or even stop picking the skin of his bloody fingers enough to see that Draco was trying to get his attention. He hadn't told Harry that his best friend's form shook with a cold that was deeper than external. He hadn't told Harry that the first boy to befriend him was filthy from smeared feces and urine stains.

More worrisome was that he couldn't find Hermione at all on that horrific floor. He hadn't had time to search the other floor of the prison, and he hoped that's where she was being kept, but he wouldn't get his hopes up. Harry was going to be crushed when they broke the heroes out of prison.

There were more heroes in Azkaban than Harry knew. Nearly everyone Harry had ever mentioned being in Dumbledore's Army was wasting away in a downstairs cell.

Draco was overwhelmed. He continued his heaving sobs, knowing that there wasn't a soul who would come to check on him. Severus was working on more empathy potion after discovering its shelf-life was abnormally long. Molly was with Ginny in rural Scotland looking for a larger house to move in to. They knew that a second hideaway would be necessary as their cottage alone was not large enough to house more than three more couples.

He continued to let his emotions run amok. No one was going to see him. He had no one to put on an unexpressive face for. He was alone. Alone and without Harry and his son.

With a fierce rage, Draco dug the nails of his hands into the sensitive skin of his face before he swung out against a hapless sapling. He stood and ripped the tree from its roots, swinging the dirt-clod roots harshly against the larger oak beside it.

It wasn't satisfying. He gracefully pulled his wand from its holster and set the offending sapling on fire.

It still wasn't satisfying. Quickly, a few stray branches and acorns became heavy glass balls. He had thirty in total.

Two hours later than he had told them he would return Draco stepped into the foyer of the house. He was sweaty and dirty, his fingers and palms bloody from the few glass balls he squeezed to break, but he didn't care. He just wanted to go to his room and be alone. He needed time to plot. He didn't care about anyone else; Harry was going to be the first to be taken out of that God-awful place.

"Draco!"

He turned to find Nymphadora and a worried looking Bill coming in from the kitchen. He cringed inwardly and tried to turn to retreat to his room, but they wouldn't allow it.

"What?" he snapped, his voice acerbic. He was not in the mood to be friendly to anyone let alone the people he lived with. "What do you want? Leave me the hell alone!"

Nymphadora, ignoring her personal safety, stepped across the room to him and wrapped her arms tightly around his shivering form before he could protest. One of her arms weirdly wrapped around to cradle the back of his neck and head, pushing his face into the crook of her neck, and that was when he realized he had lost control of his emotions.

He was crying again. No, crying was too tame a word for the gut-wrenching sobs that escaped him.

A second pair of arms wrapped around him from behind, and he began feeling comforted by the odd sandwich they made.

His whole body was lethargic and sore from the emotions pulled from him. He held tightly to the back of Nymphadora's robes as if that were the only thing saving him from drowning in a stormy sea. Bill's arms around the two of them were the only thing keeping him on his feet.

When he calmed, it felt like it had been forever. He felt better, purged of the stifling emotion that felt like it was constantly choking him. He took a deep breath and let it out with a gush as first Bill then Nymphadora pulled away. They pulled him to a seat between them on the sofa.

Draco hung his head, pushing away the last trails of tears with a swipe of his finger. The skin around his eyes stung with the salt water added to the wounds he inflicted earlier with his nails. Dora immediately began tending to the shallow cuts on his hands. He had banished as much of the glass as he could beforehand but he realized with a wince that he had missed some.

"What happened?" Bill asked. His voice was barely above a whisper as if speaking any louder would shatter Draco to pieces like the glass balls he had thrown.

"I-I have a son…" He glanced up desperately at his cousin. Over the months they had been living together, he began looking up to her. Sure, she was extremely clumsy, but his cousin was brilliant. Everything she lacked in grace and poise, she made up for in brains and common sense. He searched her confused face for some sign that she knew how he had a son. "H-Harry and I have a son."

"What?" Dora gasped. "How is that possible?"

Draco dropped his eyes to his hand held tightly in Dora's. Her knuckles were white with the strength of her grip, but the tightness comforted him oddly. "I was hoping you would know… somebody would know. Harry didn't even know he was pregnant. He thought he was dying from a tumor when Aidan was born. I didn't know men could get pregnant."

He glanced over at Bill who was watching him from the comfortable arm chair beside the sofa. "I've heard of it. It's extremely rare and very delicate. Only ninety or so men have conceived in the history of record keeping. And about half of those men die during pregnancy."

Nymphadora looked mockingly shocked. "How do you know something I don't?"

Draco knew she was putting on a show for him, trying to lighten the mood in the room, and he didn't mind. He liked the chemistry between his cousin and Bill. He knew they would never be a couple and probably wouldn't ever survive being one, but the pair was perfect as friends. They teased one another and fought like siblings. They challenged and pushed each other to their limits. It was an amusing dynamic to watch.

They had been friends since Dora's second day at Hogwarts when she tripped down a staircase and brought Bill down the next flight with her. His friends had thought him uproariously funny lying there tangled in a weave of first year girl and two book bags. Bill hadn't been quite as amused, but he hadn't been able to get rid of her since.

"Because it was written on a wall in one of the pyramids we raided. It was a story of three men in a relationship. Two of them had become pregnant. One died during childbirth. I went to the National Egyptian Library and researched it a bit more. It was really quite interesting, but I never gave it any thought of it being something that could actually happen. There are only ninety documented cases of men conceiving after all."

Draco was somewhat stunned. Harry was not going to like being one of so few men in history. It was going to bring out his freakish complex again. Draco hated Harry's relatives for cursing their nephew with such low self-confidence that anything amazing or miraculous that happened to Harry made him think he was a freak.

"Actually…" Bill continued but trailed off, not at all noticing Draco's expressions. Bill stood and left the room, leaving Draco alone with his cousin.

Dora released his hand and draped her arm across his shoulders and Draco looked up into her face. "It's not such a bad thing. I mean, it's mind-boggling, but it's amazing. You and little Harry are parents. How can you not be excited about that?" Dora's own excitement shone in her violet eyes.

"My lover and my newborn son are locked up in a prison where there have only been three known escapes." Voicing it aloud made it all that much real and hopeless. "There are so many spells surrounding his cell that I'm amazed I was able to stay close to it without setting off all the alarms just from my innate magic. I even had taken a magic suppressant.

"I'm surprised Harry's magic doesn't set it off."

Nymphadora looked shocked. "What do you mean Harry's magic?" Her voice was careful, controlled despite the worried undertone.

Draco blushed bright red as he remembered what really made him come in his pants. He shifted uncomfortably at the memory of having to clean his trousers before he left the prison. "H-His magic is so powerful. He taps into it subconsciously, and i-it's overpowering. I think it's tied to his emotions."

"He's able to tap into his magic in Azkaban? Ever since Sirius escaped, they placed magic suppression charms over every inch of every cell in the prison. You said you were able to feel his magic?"

Now Draco felt the shock that his cousin had displayed earlier. "Y-yeah. I mean… his magic was strong, intact. Almost tangible." He remembered the feeling of Harry's magic squeezing his balls. "I didn't ask him, but I bet he is able to use it when he wants to. And if that's the case, I don't think wandless magic is registered by the spells because I definitely felt Harry's magic while I was under the influences of the potion."

Bill returned with a book open in his hands. He nearly fell when he tripped over a pair of shoes on the stairs, but recovered gracefully without his eyes ever leaving the text in the book. He kicked the shoes to the side with a practiced ease that showed he grew up in a household where things like that happened a lot. "'Male pregnancies are extremely rare in the Wizarding World and non-existent amongst Muggles,'" he read aloud. "'There are only forty-three known cases of male pregnancies that resulted in a live birth. Fifty-six pregnancies resulted in miscarriage or stillbirth. Of the forty-three live births, twenty-one resulted in the death of the Carrier.'" Bill suddenly stopped reading, going as pale as everyone else in the room. The statistics of male pregnancies were horrific. More than half of the pregnancies aborted themselves or killed the newborn. Of the remaining few, about half of those killed the mother. Harry could have easily died. Harry was one of twenty-three people in the history of the world to have survived a male pregnancy with a healthy child.

"Wow," Bill whispered, seating himself heavily back into the chair he vacated. "'Never has there been a case of a second pregnancy or birth in a single male, and there has never been a case of a multiple birth. It is said that the Carrier of a male pregnancy is extremely powerful in innate and instinctive magic. Most are known to be wandless and are able to learn even the most advanced magic as easily as the beginners' spells.' Well that's true of Harry."

Bill continued to read about some of the known Carriers and various theories on the reasons for the pregnancy. "A final theory on the pregnancy of Lord Gryff is that his house required it. The ancient magics surrounding his manor required a living heir to remain in the family. It is thought that the ancient magics forced the married couple together to produce said heir and continued to help the heir thrive in the Carrier's womb. When the Carrier left the protection of the manor, the fetus became distressed, and Lord Gryff nearly lost the child. It was only when he was returned to the manor to seek the help of the healer that the child was instantly returned to full health. It was later found that Lord Gryff's body did not undergo the changes most male pregnancies produce, and as a result, he died during childbirth. It is theorized that only the manor's magic supported the pregnancy and the child, Lord Godric Gryffindor, became one of the United Kingdom's most powerful known wizards.'"

Something in that rang a bell with Draco. It wasn't Malfoy Manor or even Potter Castle that had contributed its magic to Harry's pregnancy, but was it possible Hogwarts had contributed? He couldn't pinpoint Aidan's conception because neither Harry nor Draco knew how long Harry had been pregnant and neither knew exactly the day Aidan was born. Harry had guessed it was five weeks and two days, but he wasn't positive because he had passed out and found his baby fine and eating.

He knew Aidan's conception had been at Hogwarts, and he could remember several days in December before the final battle that seemed like pure magic when they made love. It quite possibly could have been around that time, but did Hogwarts have a hand in Harry's pregnancy, and if it did, why?

"So we know Harry is unusually powerful, and of course any child made by the two of you would be abnormally powerful as well." Dora wrapped her other arm around Draco for some reason he didn't know. She was hugging him from the side, and although it was awkward because he was fully coherent and not an emotional wreck, he was comforted by his cousin's embrace.

"Ok, now that we've established Harry and Draco have a child, how are we going to get them out? It's even more important to move quickly. Tell me, how are the others?"

Draco knew Bill was digging for information on his brothers, father, and Hermione. He felt the breath catch in his throat, pushing against the lump that formed suddenly. Instead of saying anything, he looked down at his hands in his lap and shook his head.

He heard the intake of air from his cousin and the shift of position from Bill. Draco cleared his throat. "We need a rehabilitation plan. Just rescuing them is not going to be enough." He felt saddened again by the fact that most of Bill's family was mindless. His father was sleeping when he walked the floor. Fred was crying and screaming as the dementor on the floor was standing near his door. He was most likely reliving the death of Angelina who he had proposed to the day before the final battle. George was not much better than his twin.

"Poppy and Severus should be able to figure out a plan of action. Poppy with her medical experience and Severus with his mind healing abilities. Do we know of anyone else?"

"Severus may know of someone to assist him in mind healing," Draco offered, meeting his cousin's eyes.

Draco yawned then and shrugged off his cousin's arms, feeling emotionally drained. He stood and excused himself. "Oh, Bill, may I borrow that book?"

"Of course," he croaked. He could see the pain the older man was fighting. He tossed Draco the book, and Draco continued up the stairs to his bedroom.

On the way, he slipped into the library and easily found the Muggle paperback book that belonged to Fleur. The spine was well creased as well as a few corners. An infant boy and girl smiled up from the cover and colorful blocks spelled out "Baby". Inside, Draco knew was a listing of 10,001 names from all different nations and some made up. His son needed a middle name. He would prefer to look one up with Harry wrapped in one arm and his other cradling his son, but he would choose several, and he and Harry would discuss the pros and cons of each. Middle names were very important after all. They were meant to honor or define a person's character. Aidan was going to have a middle name befitting of a Malfoy _and_ a Potter.

Without being seen, he tucked the book under his arm and shut his bedroom door behind him. He tossed the book on male pregnancies onto his nightstand and fell back onto his bed. He propped himself up a bit with pillows and opened the well-used book. He could wait to shower and change. Aidan was more important.

* * *

Severus finished bottling the magic empathy and the magic suppressant potions and stored them on the shelves of his small closet. By keeping them in the closet, it kept the heat of the caldrons from spoiling them. Brewing in an upstairs room without the dry, chilly environment he was used to was a huge change. He struggled to keep his potions untainted.

He would never admit it aloud, but he used a mild cooling and sealing charm on the closet, wandless, of course, to avoid Ministry detection.

He went through the mundane task of cleaning his caldrons, tools, and workspace. He knew Draco was back from Azkaban. He had felt the wards trip three hours ago, but it took Draco two hours to make his way up to the house. It was curious that the boy stayed out so long as he hated being outside. If he wasn't flying or spending time with Potter, Draco preferred to stay inside where there was a cooling charm.

Severus contemplated that maybe it wasn't such a big deal because this house didn't have a cooling charm, and it was quite temperate this time of year just before the cold front season began.

Cleaning his hands and dusting off his robes, Severus left his small brewery. Draco's room was three doors down, so it wouldn't hurt to stop by and check on his ward.

He rapped softly, twice on the wood. When he didn't get an answer, he twisted the knob and stuck his head in the door.

His godson was stretched atop his comforter with his dirty trainers and jeans. His face, though mostly relaxed in sleep, was dirty and had faint tension lines around his forehead and eyes. Most likely a headache. He pulled a small vial of blue potion from his robe pocket and set it on Draco's bedside table. Pink scratch marks stood out starkly on his cheekbones. He picked up the book that Draco was gripping loosely in one hand across his chest.

_10,001 Baby Names._ Severus thought it odd that Draco would be helping Fleur pick out names for the baby, especially when the veela had already chosen a name for the child. He was just about to set it down on top of the other book, but stopped upon reading the title of the other book. _Medical Wizard Mysteries: Male Pregnancies, Dragon Pox, and Cancer._

Male Pregnancies. The words jumped off the hard cover at Severus and he sat down on the bed beside Draco. He couldn't let this wait.

"Draco." He shook his godson's shoulder until he awoke.

"Sev?"

"What are these books?"

Draco looked confused for a few moments before he sighed. "Harry has a baby."

"A baby? Whose?"

"Mine and his." Draco looked at Severus, and Severus felt like he was looking for a reaction. "His name is Aidan. He's a little over a month old. He looks so much like Harry, but he's definitely my son."

Severus felt faint. Male pregnancies were legend. It was unheard of!

"Sev, you okay?" Draco's hand grabbed at his forearm, grounding him.

Severus looked down at his godson. "Yes. Potter had a child and survived? The child survived?"

"Yes."

"How is his mind? Have the dememtors affected him? How is he feeding the child?"

Draco looked oddly at Severus. "He seems okay, as okay as expected. The dementors only are around when the Minister visits, which is once a month. And Harry nurses, _nurses_, Aidan. Can you believe it?"

The normally stoic man felt this head spinning with this new information. He knew Potter was powerful, but this kind of power, while under suppression and oppression charms in prison was unbelievable.

He had to change the subject. His world had just been shaken to its core. He cleared his throat. "Did you accomplish your task?"

"Of course." His godson's voice sounded choked as if surprised, and Severus turned his gaze away. It wouldn't do to see his godson's knowing smirk that something had completely overwhelmed Severus's passive demeanor.

Severus managed to successfully change the subject to the wards surrounding the cells and the prison itself. He filed away Potter's pregnancy and birth for later more thorough thought and research. Instead, he picked apart Draco's thoughts and memories of his time in the prison, his study of the wards, and even his embarrassing, disgusting memory of Potter's magic surfacing in tangible form. He wanted to do nothing but gouge out his eyes and erase his memory after seeing that, but the knowledge he would be erasing was too important.

They spent a few hours going over and reviewing their previous research in conjunction with Draco's findings. Severus had conjured a stiff, high-back chair and a writing desk which they shared. The spells around the cells on the lower levels were simple enough if they could learn to dismantle them wandlessly. The spells surrounding Potter's cell were more complex. A weird cacophony of intertwined spells and wards covered every inch. Some of the spells and wards Severus had never seen before. Some of them made him sick with dread.

Amongst the cell's spells was one for ill health. His godson, thankfully couldn't define each ward because Severus knew he would be inconsolable had he known of the ill health spell. It prevented Potter from recovering from something as simple as a cold. Instead, it aided in his illness, pushing it to its limits.

The spell was created by mediwizards and witches to speed the spread of cancer or a fatal disease and was only used in the direst of circumstances. Once the patient slipped into a coma and only had a few, painful hours left to live, the mediwizard would use the spell to speed up the patient's death as soon as the family gave their consent. No one wanted to see their loved ones suffer possibly hours of torturous pain.

Severus was even more amazed that Potter was able to survive and bring a healthy child into the world with everything going against him.

If they didn't get Potter out of the cell soon, Severus was worried that the boy may never survive. Winter in Azkaban was the time most of the inmates died. They contracted colds which quickly escalated to pneumonia because of the lack of healthcare, proper nutrition, and warmth. He couldn't tell if the baby would be affected by the spell but from the looks of it, it was tied to Potter's magic, as was many of the wards and spells surrounding the tiny cell.

Getting Potter out was going to take long hours of studying and probably some inside help into the inner workings of the prison. And finding someone was going to be very hard when nearly all of them were wanted by the Ministry.

**

* * *

A/N: **Sorry this has taken a while to get out. I'd hate to say it, but the next is going to be in a couple weeks. A week of hardcore intense training probably 15 hours a day, then a week in the field in the middle of triple digit heat is going to suck. I'm not looking forward to any of it at all.

Thoughts on this chapter? What do you like/dislike so far? What do you want to see? Does Snape's character seem okay? In character and all that? I'm too much of an expressive person, so writing characters who don't show any emotion to the outside world is hard for me.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

**A/N:** Thanks for all the great feedback from the last chapter! I thought I would give y'all a bit of a reward with a new chapter before I go to the field and possibly die from heat stroke. LOL. Hopefully the next few weeks won't be as bad as I imagine they will be, and I'll get some writing time in.

Also, please leave feedback! I don't know what y'all like, want to see, etc. if I don't know what you think of the chapters! Thanks!

* * *

Harry had sunk into a heavy depression after Draco's departure. He didn't want to eat, only wanted to sleep, and was in a constant state of lethargy. Seeing Draco, feeling Draco, kissing Draco reminded him of everything he was missing being locked away. He felt his whole life slipping away the longer he stayed in his cell. During those days, his only source of comfort and strength was Aidan.

The baby had to have sensed that his daddy was feeling low because he constantly wanted to be held and fussed when Harry set him down for anything. If he had to change his nappy, Aidan would wiggle, kick, and cry until Harry scooped him up and buried his own tear-streaked face against his son's.

He was feeling better, though, day by day. Aidan's constant need for attention reminded Harry that he had an infant to care for. His body was feeding an infant, so he needed every nutrient he could get into his body to support his growing son. And Aidan was growing. The little baby was getting longer and chubbier. His little cheeks had filled out and his belly looked round with health and nourishment. He was starting to look more like baby pictures he had seen of himself. Harry could finally see the subtle bits of his own features in his son's face that mixed so well with Draco's. Aidan was definitely Draco's son, but now Harry saw, he was definitely his own as well.

The weather began chilling a couple days after Draco left and Harry made sure to wrap Aidan securely in his blanket before they fell asleep. Just draping the blanket over his son didn't work because Aidan had discovered his legs and arms. He wiggled and kicked, swung his arms and twisted his body. A few times, Harry had woken with a sore nose after Aidan had whacked him with his tiny fist.

The weather on the northern Scottish island only worsened Harry's melancholy mood. The constant dripping of the roof from the sheets of rain falling outside the prison walls was a grim sound. Sometimes, thunder would shake the foundations and cause Aidan to startle, but as long as Harry was holding him, he didn't cry.

Harry began getting a feeling that something was wrong. Two days after Draco left, his food returned to the mush it had been before. The cheese that Fossy had gingerly cut the mold from was now covered in green, fuzzy splotches. The sausage links were bitter with age and freezer-burn. The bread was mostly green and hard. He stopped receiving the small bit of milk he had been getting.

He knew without a doubt that something was wrong when the nappies Fossy washed and returned every two days didn't show. A clean tunic never appeared, and the bath he used to clean Aidan and himself was also vacant from his cell when he woke up five days after the last. He hoped everything was okay, but he knew it wasn't.

He only had ten nappy liners for Aidan, enough to last two days, so Harry began cleaning them in his sink. It was the only water he had available to him. It wasn't like he wasn't used to living in horrific conditions, so he knew how to take care of himself. It was Aidan he was worried about. He didn't know the first thing about babies other than the little bit he had learned so far through his son. He didn't know what Aidan needed to remain healthy, and that was the most important thing to him.

The feeling of wrongness only got worse for Harry. Other than Fossy, Harry couldn't pinpoint what else felt wrong other than his desperate fear that the next person who came to his cell was not going to be Draco rescuing him. Also, his fear that Aidan would be discovered by someone who wanted to hurt Harry was growing by the hour. It sat so heavily in his gut that it took everything he had to keep his food down. He hated the fluttery, nervous feeling he had.

Following his gut, though, Harry began looking for places to hide Aidan. He couldn't depend on the Minister not realizing he had a heap of blankets again. Fudge was an idiot, but occasionally he caught on to things, and the fact that Harry now had three blankets (not including the one he always wrapped Aidan in) and a mattress would not be missed for long. One visit he didn't have anything and the next he was living in luxury. Yeah, right, Fudge wasn't _that_ much of an idiot.

Harry was drawn to a spot on the wall beside where he had once slept. During a rare moment that Aidan was content in sleep, Harry set him on the mattress and crawled over to the space beside the sink. It was near a very dark corner. The stone had no cement sealing it into its place. He had to use his nails, which were brittle and long, to pull the flat stone from its place.

Jackpot. For the first time in days, Harry smiled.

The stone was large and heavy and hid a long, crawlspace, just wide enough and deep enough for him to fit snuggly. He cringed at what his paranoia had become. Was he really thinking about putting his son into the wall? But, he was lucky. He hadn't expected to be able to find anything suitable. He couldn't believe he was feeling this paranoid. He had never felt this way before, but he had never wanted to protect something or someone so badly before either.

It was only a few moments after Harry replaced the stone to the crawl space that Aidan woke and started crying again. He was exhausted. His emotions were all over the place. He hated that Aidan cried. Was there something more wrong with him other than just wanting to be held? Harry cuddled him close, his lips lingering over Aidan's hair as his son fell back to sleep in his arms.

Curling around his son as he had done every time since Aidan was born, Harry drifted off to a troubled sleep.

* * *

Minister Cornelius Fudge was furious. He was ready to kill something or someone with his bare hands, skipping his wand altogether. He couldn't remember a time he was this insanely infuriated. His poor secretary, Madelyn, was going to need a huge raise after putting up with him this afternoon and maybe a large bouquet of flowers. If she lasted that long with him. He had already fired her twice during his meeting with Angus Browne, the head guard of Azkaban.

He had come back from seeing Potter three weeks ago, and he couldn't, for the life of him, figure out why the bastard was doing so well. He hated that the stupid, sniveling, little wretch was actually still alive and healthy with everything against him.

Angus, his old friend from Durmstrang, had informed him that Potter had been getting help; he didn't know how he missed the lavish living when he was there last. Oh, Cornelius was going to put an end to that. No doubt about it. Potter was not going to survive the winter, and he was going to prove it to him in person by beheading the fucking traitor of a house elf.

He swiped his arm over the mantle above his fireplace sending all his glass trinkets given by the adoring public crashing to the floor. He shakily poured himself a few fingers of fine bourbon from a crystal decanter and drank it heavily. He fucking hated that rat bastard. Potter was nothing more than a leech on the Minister's position. He was the fungus that grew in the darkest of pits, poisoning the minds and hearts of his constituents.

Well, he was going to do something about that… that… He huffed and threw his empty glass into the fire.

His next visit wasn't scheduled for a week. It was too long. He had some major changes in store for the Boy-Who-Continued-to-Royally-Piss-Him-Off.

The week ticked by and the Minister's rage never faded. He was going to cause bloodshed with that damn elf. He was going to require an audience with his entire staff, elves, humans, and dementors alike. They would all learn the hard way not to cross Minister Cornelius Fudge. He was going to make an example of the fucking elf and the blasted Bastard-Who-Lived.

The Minister was almost gleeful at the apparition point to get on to Azkaban Island. The freezing rain on his face made his mood even better. He couldn't wait to crush Potter like the cockroach he was. He had never wanted to see Azkaban so badly before. He was manic in anticipation of showing Potter who was in charge.

How he had ever gotten this bad he didn't know, but he liked it. He was sick of being the cowardly, simpering fool he had once been, dragging about on Lucius Malfoy's coattails. It was humiliating. He was standing on his own two feet. He only needed to have a strong support system around him like his pick for head guard, his pick for head of the International Department, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and the Auror Division, and having the simpering Umbridge around, who had just as twisted a mind as he did and made for a somewhat good lay when he was lonely, was always a bonus. The woman was evil and got things done. She undermined and manipulated people so easily that Cornelius saw easily that she had been in Slytherin when she attended Hogwarts.

Of course, he had several other strong, influential friends thrown around in the Ministry, a lot of them fellow Britons from Durmstrang, a few of them ex-Death Eaters who had plead _Imperius_ during their trial. Lucius Malfoy, after saving Potter's life, came back to him, and Fudge no longer dragged behind him like some whimpering puppy dog. Lucius was now _his_ lap dog. Cornelius was the only man still willing to give the two-time tried Death Eater a chance. The man who had defected on both the Light and the Dark. So long as Cornelius helped build Lucius's name back to the standing it had once held, Lucius was more than amenable to their new political relationship.

Lucius handled the other Death Eaters in his ranks with a grace and flare that he knew had come from years as the Dark Lord's right hand. Lucius had become the gum on the bottom of the wizarding world's shoe. He was like the plague. Nobody wanted anything to do with him, including his wife.

Fudge knew Lucius needed work to keep him in the right frame of mind. The man was mourning the loss of his son, declared Missing in Action after the final battle. His wife, the beautiful Narcissa, was in self-induced hermitage. Her son had been her life, and nothing could console her.

It felt like an eternity, but Cornelius finally felt the telltale sign of his ring heating letting him know the island was secure for his visit. He slipped his potion out of his pocket and downed the entire thing, gagging and grimacing at the vile taste. Why that godforsaken Potions Master, Greenford, couldn't make potions that tasted good eluded him. The man had been the Master to Severus Snape when the man, may he rest in peace, went for his Potions Mastery immediately upon his commencement from Hogwarts.

Cornelius pulled himself back into his gleeful little world of crushing Potter. His friend, Crane Crandall, also from Durmstrang, apparated before him. Cornelius did a little ballet twist and skip, and in a blink, he had arrived. Crane was grinning beside him, the only person he would take onto Potter's floor with him, excluding a couple of dementors, of course. Cornelius didn't even know Crane's real first name only that he had been given the nickname because of his massive size and ability to completely annihilate anyone he crossed in a fight. The man had been kicked off the Auror Division in Romania for his "too harsh" demeanor when apprehending criminals. Crane was just the person Cornelius needed to get the job done right.

He grinned evilly as his two dementor guards joined him at the prison's entrance. This was going to be good.

* * *

Harry's senses were heightened. That was the only way he could describe the new level of paranoia he was feeling. His magic was just sitting on the surface of the fingertips and tingling just under his skin. He could feel the shift in magic as all the highest levels of protections came down around his cell. Protections for those outside his cell, that is.

The Minister had arrived. Like clockwork. Twenty-eight days after his last visit.

Harry felt his heart in his throat. Aidan was wide awake, having just woken from his early morning post-breakfast nap. He was cooing and smiling in the way he did when Harry was feeling upset about something. It was like he was trying to get him to smile back. The sleep spell he cast before wasn't going to be as effective on a wide awake infant and his magic now felt dampened by the spells pulsating around him.

He knew something was going to happen. He hadn't seen anything from Fossy for a week. The niggling, squirmy feeling in the pit of his stomach had intensified, and Harry didn't ignore it. It wouldn't be the first time his gut warned him of impending danger.

Pulling as much of his core magic to the surface as he could access, Harry weaved the sleep spell around Aidan. It was weak and left him panting from the strain, but after what seemed like an eternity, Aidan's little eyes drooped closed for a final time. Harry focused hard to cast a silencing bubble around him. It was all he could do for now. He prayed there was enough airflow in the crawl space that Aidan would have difficulties breathing. God, how could he do this? He quickly moved over to the wall and pulled the stone from its place.

He could feel the dementors in the stairwell down the hall from him. The cold pain was slowly creeping into him. He placed a cushioning charm on the floor and laid his son down after placing a lingering kiss to his temple, whispering his prayer of safety and security around his little boy.

The tears that started pricking at his eyes as he covered the crawl space again were swiped away angrily. How dare Fudge threaten the life of his son simply by existing? Harry stood and waited as the Minister opened the door from the stairwell and casually strolled down his hallway whistling tunelessly.

Fudge and a huge man stepped up to the bars. The Minister had never brought anyone with him before, opting to torment Harry with all his illegal dealings that he was getting away with and the illegal imprisonments of his friends and family.

Harry felt sickened by the man before him. Cornelius Fudge was the worst kind of evil there was. In many ways, Harry even believed him worse than Voldemort. At least with Voldemort, everyone knew he was evil. Fudge had gone his whole career playing off the innocent act.

Pain, which had been lancing through him at the approach of the dementors, intensified just enough to make him bite in a gasp. He tried to push it out of his mind by using the Occlumency he never mastered. It worked, barely.

"Hello, Potter," Fudge smiled, sounding more like Voldemort than the man would ever admit. "I'm so pleased to see you well today, dear child. I know there was a time when I thought you were as good as gone. You looked so dreadfully sick, my dear, however did you recover?" He paused and when Harry didn't answer, he again resorted to his Umbridge-like one-sided conversation. "Tosh, that doesn't matter. What matters is that you are doing well."

Fudge's wand, always in his hand when in Harry's presence, flicked when the man spoke a spell. Instantly, Harry felt the cold steel shackles tighten around his wrists and ankles, the clinking chains weaving like vines across the floor to secure and pull Harry to floor space in the center of the cell. Harry tried hard not to react and to keep his face impassive, but the pinching of steel on his wrists and the tightening of the vine-like chains caused a shiver of fear to race down his spine.

He wouldn't show the man his fear. He gritted his teeth and set his jaw, staring defiantly at Fudge and the man beside him. The pain pounding in his skull was barely manageable, and he felt like his brain was going to explode out of his scar, but he refused to allow the pain to surface on his face.

"I know your secret, Potter," Fudge continued in that Umbridge-like sing-song. Harry's heart began pounding erratically thinking only of his son hidden in the wall behind the sink. He prayed it wasn't Aidan whom Fudge was speaking of. Sweat was beading on his forehead and trickling down into his eyes despite the bitter cold he was feeling. He was trembling harshly from the effects of the dementors standing on either side of his cell.

It made him want to vomit. That combined with the excruciating migraine was causing bile to creep up his throat. His stomach heaved and the little bit of moldy bread he had for breakfast spewed out and onto the floor in front of Fudge's shining boots.

He wearily watched the smirk shared between the two men standing outside his cell. Fudge nodded and the man slid a tarnished key into the lock of his cell door. The bars swung open, giving Harry an unobstructed view of his tormentor.

"You have had a house elf helping you for quite some time. Months, I'm told." Fudge entered his cell and, stepping over the vomit, began to circle his prey like a hungry dog. Harry remained silent and motionless. He would not show Fudge any more weakness than the trembling of his malnourished body.

"Dorn!"

A small, quivering house elf appeared beside the Minister. "Master called Dorn?"

"Bring the traitorous elf to me."

Harry felt his heart beating wildly in his throat as he continued to control his breathing and try to remain impassive. Fossy. She had been nothing but helpful to him.

His stomach dropped as Dorn returned a few seconds later with a severely beaten and starved Fossy. She wasn't wearing the custom rags the others wore. She had been whipped badly. Her head lolled to the side as Dorn forced her to remain standing. The Minister pushed the elf and ordered her to stand directly beside and to the front of Harry, and Harry could see she was only standing due to the magic holding her from Fudge's order. She looked down at the floor, her arms limp at her sides, and Harry couldn't tear his eyes away from the bloody, infected slashes on the tiny elf's back, buttocks, and legs.

"I hear you have made friends with this vermin, Potter. I'm going to teach you and everyone in my employ what happens when they side with Harry Potter." The Minister twisted a ring on his finger and within seconds, the hall was full of people, elves, and dementors.

"Welcome, guards and elves. Today, a traitor has been discovered in our midst." The minister waited for the low chatter to die down before he continued. "This elf, stripped of its clothes and name, has been discovered to have been helping a prisoner. Specifically, the most dangerous prisoner we house: Harry Potter. Today, I wish to teach each and every one of you your fate should you choose to err from the Ministry and fall under this leech's spell. Should you side with Potter, your life will be forfeit."

Fudge waved his wand and with a quick spell, Fossy's head was severed from her body, flying a few feet and striking the wall with a crack. Blood sprayed dramatically as her small body crumpled to the floor with a thump. He was covered with splatters of thick, red fluid from the only thing that had shown him kindness. Harry couldn't suppress the sob and gag as he began heaving again, spilling the bile from his throat. Fossy hadn't done anything wrong except give him necessities to keep him and Aidan alive.

Harry could hear others in the crowd retching as the metallic smell of blood hit those who had never witnessed it before in battle.

"Should you be found siding with Potter or any of his followers, your life will be forfeit without a trial." Fudge's voice changed from informative to official. "By order of the Minister for Magic of the United Kingdom, Cornelius Fudge, I hereby order that anyone who errs from the Ministry's views and laws will be considered a traitor to the Crown and will be killed on the spot. Signed on this day 19 October 1998, Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic, United Kingdom."

Harry heard someone gasp in the crowd over the deafening silence.

"Who did that?"

A small trembling man was pushed to the front of the crowd by all the larger men surrounding him. He had no place in a hell like this. Harry could see the dementors effected him badly.

"Crandall, Veritiserum, now." The large, beefy man beside Fudge handed him a vial and the Minister poured all of it down the man's throat.

"Why did you gasp, traitor?"

"The Minister declared supreme rule," he replied faintly and sluggishly. His thin body was trembling hard from the overdose and his eyes were rolling back into his head.

"Do you oppose the Minister?"

The man was now being held up by a few of the men who had pushed him to the front. "Yes."

It was the last breath to come from his throat as Fudge immediately sliced him open from chin to pelvis. The men released his arms and one of them began throwing up over the body.

Harry was horrified and fought the encompassing fear that was trembling up his spine. He hadn't defeated Voldemort only for another Dark Wizard to take over, and Fudge was even more of a threat to national security. He already held the position Voldemort had wanted. He already had the ability to pass anything into law. The corruption in the Ministry was rampant. The system was extremely flawed. There was no process of checks and balances like the Muggles had. Harry understood now what Draco had tried so hard to explain to him for so long.

"I suggest you all learn to hold your stomachs. I will not tolerate any weakness from my employees. DISMISSED!" The crowd didn't wait another breath. The human guards tripped and stumbled over one another as they rushed from the carnage that was the new Minister. The elves all popped away in horror, taking the body with them to bury in an unmarked grave on the island. Some of the dementors remained, making Harry's breath catch with each inhalation. He felt like he was going to die right then and there.

"Now, Potter, I have you all to myself."

Harry was so sick and in so much pain that he didn't even lift his head. He was chained in an awkward kneeling position, the chains not giving him room to move his legs an inch. He was surprised, though, that he was still upright.

He could feel Fossy's blood mixing with his sweat and rolling down his face. He could still see her little body beside him, the hot blood still pooled at his bare knees. His breathing was hitched as he struggled to not sob at the horror, guilt, and sadness he felt deep in his gut. She had only been helping him for Aidan. It had been quite some time since he felt like he wouldn't be leaving the prison alive, but the feeling was desperately clawing at his insides. He and his baby were going to die in Azkaban if Fudge had anything to do with it.

The man, no monster, before him was talking quietly with the other man he had brought. It was only a matter of moments before Harry knew what the Minister had planned. The man stepped quickly behind him and grabbed him by the hair to wrench his head back to look at the Minister.

"Why won't you die, Potter?"

The fingers in his hair tightened, making Harry gasp as he felt hairs being ripped from the root of his aching head.

"I've tried nearly everything, including tying an illness escalating spell directly to your magic. You're like a cockroach. You can chop off your head, but you'll live for ages afterward. We'll handle that though. And it will all still be natural causes. Sure, you'll look a little worse for wear, but you'll die from natural causes. After all, we wouldn't want the Minister for Magic losing his position because he committed a murder would we? Crane, he's all yours; I'm going to tend to his friends below."

Harry's heart leapt again into his throat at the thought of what Fudge would do to his friends. He felt like his heart was going to give out with the workout it was getting today.

He didn't have time to think about it as a heavy fist connected with the side of his face. He didn't struggle or fight back. He couldn't with the chains holding him tightly in place, but he had learned well from the Dursleys that you didn't fight back unless you wanted worse. He felt the crack of bones in his wrist and fingers, nearly blacked out from the crack of his skull against the floor, and begged for the sweet relief of unconsciousness when the man began kicking his limp body mercilessly.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7—From Bad to Worse**

**A/N:** Just a bit more sadness before everything becomes so much better. I hope you all enjoy this chapter. There's quite a bit of action at the end! I'm sure it will leave you smiling. :0)

* * *

Slowly, ever so slowly, dull, glazed green eyes opened. His entire body was on fire and stabbing in pain. He was shivering, upsetting his broken bones and fresh wounds, but he couldn't stop. Sharp pains and throbbing aches overwhelmed him, and his head felt about ready to split open. He closed his eyes again, the dim light too bright for his headache.

For the life of him, he couldn't remember what happened to put him in such a sorry state, but he knew it had something to do with Fudge. The man's falsely cheerful greeting was the last thing Harry remembered.

His heart was pounding in his chest from the fear of not knowing what happened. His blood was throbbing through his ears. God, he hurt worse than he could ever remember hurting. Even the beating that sent him to hospital when he was six didn't hurt as badly as he felt now. Everything hurt from his toes to his fingers to his lungs and chest. He could do nothing but lay there and pray for unconsciousness to take him again.

He let his head roll to the side into a puddle of cold, sticky fluid. He didn't care; he couldn't.

Opening his eyes again, he stared at the wall, not able to make out individual stones through the blurry haze encompassing his vision.

His mind sluggishly sorted through his injuries as his heart slowed and the rush in his ears lessened.

It took a few moments for him to comprehend what he was hearing.

A shrill scream pierced the silence but was muffled as if coming from a distance.

_Aidan_, his slow mind supplied.

His heart began its erratic throbbing again, and Harry used every bit of energy to crawl to the wall. Adrenaline fueled his strength as he pulled the stone away easily one-handed. He dismissed the uselessness of his right hand and fingers in his panic to remove his son from his hiding place. He ignored the sharp, searing pain in the swollen digits as he pulled the screaming infant to his body. Aidan's face was dark red and wet with tears as he continued to scream loudly.

The high pitch seared a path through Harry's ears and into his splitting skull. He shushed him and patted his back awkwardly with his smashed hand. It hurt so badly, but it was nothing compared to the pain he was feeling in his heart for his terrified infant.

How long had Aidan been screaming that he had broken through the silencing charm?

Harry awkwardly bounced him as well as he could by holding him with his forearm. His hand and wrist were useless. His left hand cradled the back of Aidan's head, forcing the baby's face into Harry's neck as he continued to shush and hum to his distraught child.

It took an eternity, and Harry was feeling quite nauseous from pain when Aidan finally calmed down to sniffling tears. Harry wasn't sure how long Aidan had been in that wall; he had no way of telling, so instead of waiting for his son's clues, Harry pulled off his bloody, torn tunic and settled against the wall behind him.

Aidan latched on to his nipple immediately eating as if he was starved. It just made Harry feel that much worse. His son had been left to starve in that wall. He prayed Draco would come back soon with a way out of here. He didn't know how long he would last like this.

He began taking an inventory of his injuries.

His left ankle was throbbing with pain and heat. It was impossibly swollen and purple. He could see the jagged bone poking against the skin awkwardly through the swelling. It looked disgusting. His legs were mottled dark purple, black, and yellowish green. Bloody and infected cuts and scrapes covered him from head to toe. His hand was definitely broken in several places, and so was his wrist. He probably had a few broken ribs as well if the ugly purple bruising was any indication. The blood that was everywhere couldn't be his because most of his injuries were broken bones and small cuts. Even the blood caked in his hair from the head injury wasn't enough to warrant all the blood around him.

There was blood splattered all over his cell and pooled in some spots. There was one sticky pool that had a face-sized smear, and Harry suddenly was hit with the nauseating, metallic smell of blood. He wiped the side of his face with his shoulder, smearing the blood even more. In a panic, he picked up his tunic, most of the blood on it was dry, and scrubbed his face until it hurt.

Again, he wondered what happened, but knew he really didn't want to remember.

Harry felt tears spring to his eyes. Holding his son hurt so badly, but no matter what, he would never give up the simple pleasure of feeling his son's warm body so close to his own.

He stared down at Aidan's perfect little face. His son was opening and closing his fist against Harry's chest, like he usually did when he nursed. Sometimes his little fingers would grip on his skin and his nails would leave tiny scratches. His son's nails were way too long.

Harry moved to cradle Aidan using his broken hand and used his other to pull Aidan's hand to his mouth. Without having any other option, Harry began biting Aidan's nails into a more acceptable length. His son had already scratched himself on his face before, and it was stupid for him not to do anything about it when he could.

He needed to focus on his son. He couldn't be selfish at a time like this. Obviously Fudge had found out about all the stuff Harry had, since now, he only had a blanket.

As the days crept by, Harry's injuries only got worse, but he learned to block out the pain. He couldn't move his right hand at all from all the swelling and his left ankle was destroyed from his attempts at walking to the toilet and sink. His breathing had become harder to manage as his ribs shifted and poked at his internal organs. He felt like he couldn't take a deep breath from fear of puncturing his lung. He knew rib injuries and punctured lungs well and did his best to not move much. It was what sent him to hospital when he was six, and he had nearly died first from the punctured lung, then from the infection that set in.

Sadly, that week and a half he spent in hospital had been the best of his young life. He ate regularly, except when his aunt and cousin visited, which was only once a day and rarely bled into meal time since Petunia promised her Diddy-dum-kins a dinner out if he behaved in hospital.

Aidan was bored. Harry could see it in his face, hear it in his disgruntled grunts, and understand it in his frustrated kicking and wiggling. Harry tried to hold him all the time, but he just couldn't. He did his best to bite his lip through the waves of pain and continue to hold his son, but those waves were coming stronger and lasting longer. Aidan missed being held and carried, rocked and bounced. He was nearing two months old, give or take a few days due to Harry's unconsciousness.

He was so adorable. Harry loved that Aidan was always smiling and babbling. No matter how upset he had been the day Harry took him back out of the wall, he was all smiles and babbles after feeding. Aidan always made Harry feel like a weight was lifting off his shoulders, and the child talked a mile a minute. He was going to be a social butterfly like his Daddy Draco.

Harry no longer had the blankets or mattress, but he did retain one blanket and the one he wrapped Aidan in, so he laid them down, Aidan's atop the moth-eaten one and set Aidan down on his tummy. Aidan had long mastered rolling over from his tummy to his back when he was done laying face down, and he had just recently rolled from his back to his tummy. Harry wasn't sure what was normal for a baby, but everything Aidan did, every milestone he passed, made Harry glow with pride.

Immediately, Aidan pushed himself up off the floor with his arms. Harry felt bad because of the chill he knew his son was feeling from the stones, but he had been holding him for hours this morning and his arm couldn't handle any more right now. He lay on his side and rested his head on the blankets, watching Aidan. He was grunting as he was struggling to get onto his knees, but he was in the wrong position. Harry used his left hand to position Aidan's legs underneath him and watched with gleeful pride as Aidan pushed himself up with his arms. He held it for only a few seconds before falling and whimpering.

Determinedly, he pushed himself up again, his head and body rocking before he fell again. He kicked his feet out, frustrated, and rolled over onto his back. Harry laughed and clapped, knowing it was what Aidan wanted, and Aidan copied him in his own jerky clapping movements and a deep belly laugh. Harry loved his laugh. He loved being silly so that Aidan would laugh at him.

When Aidan showed his first magic, Harry was completely amazed. He knew Scotland was moving into fall, and with it came the cold fronts and strong thunderstorms. Aidan, who used to not startle at anything, was on edge during this round of storms which seemed stronger than any of the others he experienced. Harry was cuddling him closely sometime in the middle of the day. It was pitch black except during the flashes of lightning outside the window down the hall. Harry could feel the icy chill as soon as the cold front pushed through. It felt nearly as cold as when a dementor was nearby, but this cold was all outside and nothing in his soul.

The storm was right on top of him. He could feel the electricity in the air and just as a streak of lightning flashed, thunder cracked deafeningly right beside them, startling Aidan from a nap. It looked almost as if it was habit when Aidan's little hand came up swinging around a ball of bright blue light.

It was the brightness of a newly learned, uncontrolled _lumos_, but his son, _his infant son_, had produced it in his hand! Harry crowed and, forgetting his injuries, scooped Aidan up and tossed him into the air as the lightning and thunder continued to fill the air. Aidan giggled madly as the light surrounding his hand vanished as if it had never been there. He squealed and clapped when Harry swung him around merrily.

"Aidan, you're such a big boy!"

"Ba ba!" Aidan cheered. Harry pulled him to his chest, careful of his broken ribs, and nuzzled his nose into his son's neck. He smelled of milk, dirt, and sweat, and Harry breathed him in deeply. Aidan was happy, healthy, and doing magic before his 2 month birthday.

It was then that things began going downhill for Harry. The weather changing was what killed most people in Azkaban, Harry knew, and it was taking its toll on him. The prison was humid inside from the lack of proper ventilation and protection from the outside, so a cold dampness clung to everything, creating a stifling, freezing environment. Harry couldn't stop shivering from the cold and spent his entire time holding Aidan as close to his body as possible.

Aidan's skin seemed to radiate heat constantly, but he didn't seem ill. The baby was as content as always; he loved being held and cuddled, and Harry, not wanting his son to catch a chill, was more than willing to oblige.

The days wore on and Harry began developing more symptoms of being sick. He couldn't breathe through his nose, which was the worst because he also couldn't breathe deeply to begin with because of the pain in his ribs.

Within a week, Harry hadn't ever felt sicker. Growing up, he had never had a cold, the flu, or even chicken pox like his cousin had experienced, so living through it now, he had no idea what to expect. He vomited often. His lungs burned and felt heavy and congested. He coughed nonstop night and day. Coughing killed him. He couldn't sleep, couldn't eat or hold it down if he did. Quickly, he returned to the unhealthy state he had been in while pregnant.

Aidan was suffering as well. Since Harry was no longer able to get enough nourishment, his body wasn't producing enough milk for Aidan's satisfaction. He wasn't sure how healthy it was, but he began feeding Aidan his watery, plain oatmeal in tiny bites. He kept pushing it out with his tongue, but Harry hoped he got a little at least. There wasn't anything else he could do. He could barely hold Aidan. He was so weak that more often than not, he just lay there in a coughing fit with Aidan cuddled against his back to avoid coughing near his son.

Aidan began coughing and getting fussy late one night. He pulled harshly on his ears, turning them red from irritation. Harry couldn't help the tears that began sliding down his cheeks. He was failing as a father. Ever since Aidan had been conceived, it had been one thing after another. It was as if God and the world were against Harry and his son's existence. He felt so hopeless and despondent. He began to believe Draco was never coming for him.

He couldn't protect Aidan any longer, either. Neither from Fudge nor from illness. Aidan's bum had a nasty red rash because Harry could no longer clean nappies, so he used drying and cleansing charms with his sporadic magic. He was losing weight and his hair, greasy from being unable to wash it, was getting dull and thinning from malnourishment. Gone were the thick, shiny, black locks Harry had adored since Aidan's birth.

Harry curled closely around his son and sobbed into his hair.

_The wind was strong, tangling his shaggy hair around his head. He carefully peeled his hand off his broomstick and pushed it out of his eyes for the hundredth time. No way was he going to let Draco Malfoy beat him to the Snitch. He didn't care if it wasn't a real game; it was the principle of the matter._

_Draco laughed, pulling up beside him. "Looks like you need a haircut." He reached over and tugged a thick strand, and Harry laughed, swiping his free hand at his boyfriend, playfully shoving at him._

_Suddenly, Draco's face lost its amusement and gained a satisfied smirk as he looked at something on the other side of Harry and took off._

_Harry knew that look well. Draco had seen the snitch before him._

_Harry pulled his broom around instantaneously and let out a whoop of delight as he caught up to Draco. He spotted the snitch on the other side of the pitch flying away from them. They flew dangerously close to one another going at breakneck speeds. Harry kept glancing at Draco, and Draco kept glancing back, both smiling shyly when they would catch one another's eye. They were watching each other more than they were watching the snitch, but like usual, Harry retained his sixth sense._

_Without looking, Harry dove straight down, and Draco followed, laughing._

_They pulled up inches from the ground, their toes brushing the long grass. _

_In a move reminiscent of First Year, Harry scooted up the handle of his broom and reached as far as he could. Draco's fingers closed around his wrist just as Harry's fingers curled around the fluttering snitch. He promptly lost his balance with the loss of momentum and the addition of Draco's hand holding his arm, and he overcorrected and tumbled from his broom, rolling several feet before landing with a pain-filled grunt._

"_Harry!" Draco's voice sounded panicked as he felt his boyfriend's hands on his neck, face, and chest. Frantic movements danced across him, but he was too dazed to open his eyes. His whole world was spinning and swirling._

"_Harry!"_

_He slowly opened his eyes, blinking in the bright sunlight up at the concerned, pale face of Draco. Testing himself, he raised his right arm, the golden snitch dazzling in the bright sunlight and he smiled half-heartedly. "Beat you," he whispered right before his lips were smothered with Draco's._

"_Shut up," Draco murmured against his mouth as his tongue invaded his._

_Harry pushed away whatever pain he was feeling and wrapped his arms tightly around Draco. His legs wrapped around Draco, pulling him down flush with Harry's body. He moaned at the feeling of Draco's body covering his own._

"_Mmm… Harry." Things quickly heated up, and they both began rutting against one another._

"_Harry."_

"Harry."

"Harry!"

Harry jerked awake, groaning from the sharp pain in his ribs. He coughed harshly, duly noting the specks of blood on his hand. They didn't concern him any longer. He'd been coughing blood for a week.

"Harry!"

He jerked again. So he wasn't imagining it. He moved his head to look at the entrance to his cell. The head rush was awful, and he moaned. He felt dizzy and it took a moment for the black spots to clear his vision enough to see who was calling for him.

"Ree, what happened?"

Draco was looking at him in concern, his eyes shiny with unshed tears, and Harry felt his heart swell and his hope increase tenfold.

"Dray."

Draco quickly started moving, seeing as Harry was too weak to get up. He began waving his hands, magic sparkling and flashing against the wards surrounding the cell. It took a while, but the lock on the cell clicked sharply, and Draco sucked in an audible gasp. Oh, God, Draco was in? This was really happening? Was he getting out?

He pushed the cell door open, pushed it closed behind him, and rushed to Harry's side. "Ree, what happened?" he asked again, kneeling and placing a hand gently on both Harry's chest and forehead. "You're burning up." Draco's hands sent a shiver up and down Harry's whole body. He knew it wasn't pleasure that made him shiver but the cold of Draco's skin against his own feverish skin.

"Fudge," Harry managed in a whisper. It took everything out of him to push himself to his elbows.

Aidan chose that moment to wake himself with a coughing fit.

"God, Aidan." Draco's voice was an amazed whisper.

Harry pushed himself up into a sitting position, and he groaned in pain, clutching at his ribs. He leaned over and awkwardly scooped Aidan up, setting him in Draco's arms. "Watch out for his neck. He's getting better at holding it up himself, but he's been sick for about a week."

When Draco was able to get a feel for the limp baby, he cradled him in one arm. With his other he reached for Harry and curled his fingers around the back of his lover's neck. "God, Harry, I love you."

"Love you, too, Draco." Harry turned his head to cough harshly again then wiped the blood spatters on his tunic.

"We're here to break you out. Sev, Bill, Tonks, and Remus are downstairs breaking down as many cell wards as they can. Arthur and Fred are in a cell together as are Charlie and George. We just have to get them out on the cliffs to be able to activate the portkey. The portkey will take us to Germany, and we'll take a flight to Romania in the morning… And I'm not sure why I'm telling you all this," he grinned as Harry's eyes drooped sleepily.

"Sorry," Harry murmured.

"Don't worry about it. Let's get the two of you out of here."

It was like something in the movies. Only those written about or in a movie had as much bad luck as Harry experienced. Harry began feeling the cold of dementors and sucked in a deep breath in surprise. "Fudge is here."

Harry noticed the moment Draco felt the effects as he went completely gray. His pale skin lost all color it had and his eyes went dull.

"Dray, take Aidan!" Harry ignored all the pain and scrambled to his knees. He grabbed Draco by the hand and pulled him to the wall with the hidden crawlspace.

His fingers shook with the pain that was beginning to escalate, and finally, Draco took over pulling the rock from its place. "Get in! Get in!" Harry pushed at Draco panicking, trying to get him to hurry into the tiny place.

"Ok, Harry, close us in." Draco gave Harry a quick kiss right before Harry pushed the stone into place.

Exhausted, Harry barely made it two feet before he fell back onto the floor. His vision began losing color, and the pain in his head increased. The gray faded to black, and Harry never saw or heard the Minister's satisfied chuckle. He never felt the Minister's hands checking Harry's erratic pulse. He never felt the kick to his head that split open a long gash.

"Harry…"

Aidan was crying, screaming, and Harry slowly blinked. He wiped at the sweat on his forehead and didn't even notice that his hand came back bloody.

"Ree."

He opened his eyes again and was glad to see that he hadn't dreamed Draco. His head was killing him, and he groaned. Aidan's tearful crying was hurting his ears, and Draco's bouncing wasn't doing anything to calm the infant. Harry reached for him.

"Shh, little baby. Hush, you're all right. Shhh…" Harry whispered into Aidan's hair right above his ear. Aidan's tiny hands and fingers pinched at the skin on his neck and collarbone.

"Harry, we need to leave," Draco said a little sadly. Harry wasn't quite sure why he sounded upset when they were leaving together, the whole family, but he dismissed it. "Can you walk?"

Harry pushed himself up to his knees. Draco helped him to his feet by his upper arm, then held tightly to keep him steady. "Here, wrap your arm around my shoulders. I'll help you walk." Draco guided Harry's arm around his shoulders and held it in place by his wrist. Draco wrapped his other arm around Harry's waist and together, they slowly walked out of the cell leaving the door wide open and the stone hiding the crawlspace on the floor, a sure sign to Fudge that Harry was giving him the middle finger.

They tripped and struggled down the hall and into the stairwell.

It was slow going, and Harry felt lightheaded like he was going to pass out. He struggled with keeping a firm grip on Aidan. He was weakening. He hadn't walked in what felt like years, and his ankle was causing him more pain than he ever thought possible. He tried not to use it at all, but Draco was already struggling with as much support as he was giving to Harry already.

"Dray, I gotta slow down," Harry panted, coughing breathlessly.

Draco faltered and stopped, looking worriedly at Harry. "Are you all right?"

"No." Harry let himself slide bonelessly to the floor as he continued to struggle with his breathing. His lungs felt like they weren't taking in oxygen, and he was lightheaded. His ribs were stabbing him sharply, and he was afraid he was close to puncturing a lung if he hadn't already.

"Harry! I'm sorry, but we can't stop! There're guards walking these lower floors and dementors." Draco took Aidan from Harry, then pulled him to his feet again. "Come on. It's not too much further."

They climbed down what seemed like eighteen more flights of stairs, and Harry was draped over Draco's back. Now his lover was supporting most of his weight and carrying their son. Harry couldn't even bother to care anymore. He just couldn't do it. He was about to pass out. He was about to vomit. His head was spinning, and he was losing his footing.

He couldn't help it when his stomach rebelled. The pain he was feeling was overwhelming. He pushed off Draco's back and spilled red-tinted bile from his stomach. He heaved several times, Draco grabbing at him anxiously.

"Harry! I hear someone!"

Harry gasped, choking on bile. He allowed Draco to help him up again and heard the footsteps. He felt the panic well in his chest. They were so close.

He used as much energy as he had remaining, and together, the three of them finally found the door to the outside world. Draco brought them to the cliffs, hugging the dark, shadowed sides of the prison.

"Here, hold Aidan and when I get down, hand him to me, and I'll help you down," Draco said, setting Harry on the edge and placing Aidan in his arms. He climbed down and took Aidan from Harry.

Harry bit his lip as he and Draco climbed down a bit more in the same fashion. He was forcing his hand to work and the sharp stings everywhere were taking his breath away. He wanted to vomit again, but he pushed himself. He just had a little bit more and the he was free. Just a little bit more!

He breathed a heavy sigh of relief when he saw Severus, Bill, Tonks, and Remus all surrounded by redheads and several of his friends from school. He slid down to the ground and promptly allowed the unconsciousness that had been threatening him the whole way down to take him.

* * *

A/N: So he's free! What do you think? Was the escape anything at all what you hoped or are you all just so happy he's finally free that you don't care how it happened?


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8—On the Mend

A/N: Sorry this is a little later than I expected, but I just couldn't seem to put my honorary niece down all weekend to write. Good thing, though, as I have A WHOLE LOT MORE cuteness to add to Aidan thanks to Callie. It's so much easier to write a baby's character than actual people, so please let me know how you think this chapter works out.

"Harry!" Draco gasped, kneeling beside his lover and patting his cheeks. He looked up to Severus in a panic, pulling Aidan closer to his chest. The baby was whimpering and sucking loudly on his thumb as he clung to Draco.

Severus knelt beside them and wrapped a long piece of string around Harry's wrist. "I will check him once we are safe. We must get to the safe house as quickly as possible." He wrapped a strand around Aidan's wrist and handed the end to Draco. "Hold him tightly. It will likely be very uncomfortable for the child."

Draco tightened his grip and held Aidan's head into the crook of his neck as he had seen Harry do. Aidan began coughing, but Draco continued to hold him. He noticed Remus, Bill, Tonks, and Severus position themselves along the string with three or four of their rescued between each of them. Bill was beside his father and brothers, looking sadly at their emaciated forms. Hermione, Luna, Terry Boot, and Neville were under Tonks's charge. Remus tended to McGonagall, Oliver Wood, Ernie Macmillan, and Seamus Finnegan. Severus watched over Cho Chang, Blaise Zabini, Lavender Brown, and Flitwick. McGonagall and Flitwick were both unconscious; McGonagall looked as if she was dead. Draco shivered with desperate unease.

It was cold sitting this near the turbulent water. The waves crashed against the rocks only six feet below and sprayed them all with salty, frigid water.

"Butterbeer," Severus murmured tapping his end of the string with his wand.

They all began spinning and twisting as the portkey hooked them by the navel and brought them to another country. They all landed harshly in the middle of a forest somewhere in Southern Germany near the Swiss border. It was a five mile journey from their location to the Swiss border. From there they would travel by private Muggle vehicles; they had a house waiting for them outside Schaffhausen, Switzerland, one of Victor Krum's many Swiss homes.

Aidan began screaming at the top of his lungs as soon as they materialized. He gasped through his screams as Draco tried desperately to console his son.

"A'n," Harry slurred coming out of his unconsciousness. He looked around sluggishly, his arms twitching and searching for his baby.

"Shh… Harry, it's okay. I have him. Aidan's fine," Draco soothed, kneeling beside his love. He bounced and jiggled Aidan for long moments until he began to settle.

"H'n'gry," he whispered. He reached again for Aidan.

Draco understood exactly what he meant as he had seen Aidan sucking on his fingers before they left. He looked around at the others, a little embarrassed that they would be watching Harry, practically unconscious, as he breastfed their son in the open in the middle of a rescue mission. He handed Aidan to Harry and helped him to sit up.

Harry swayed and Draco sat behind him, wrapping his arms around Harry, helping to support their son's body. Harry pulled up his tunic. He was naked, bloody, and bruised beneath and Draco sucked in a breath as he counted the bones in Harry's back, studied the ugly, faded bruises and scrapes. Harry leaned his head back against Draco's shoulder, and his body went limp again.

Aidan continued to nurse as if starving. He sucked hungrily, grunting in satisfaction. Draco took his time studying his son closely for the first time. He was much thinner than he had looked before and his eyes were sunken. He was completely limp except for the desperate sucking. His skin was slightly yellow as well. Jaundice? What was causing his jaundice? His baby's hair was dull as well, but he was eating. All these things were signs of starvation, but Harry's body was feeding him.

Aidan was fussing, whimpering as he continued to nurse, and Draco wondered if he really was nursing.

He laid Harry down and scooped up Aidan. "We need to get him some formula quickly. I'm not sure Harry's body is still producing milk or enough of it."

"That was the most amazing thing I've ever seen," Tonks said faintly as Draco righted Harry's tunic.

Aidan started crying again, pulling at his ear with one hand as he sucked on his thumb, tossing his head from side to side.

"We should start moving. If they find the location we left from and trace the portkey, we need to be far away," Severus said reasonably. He bent down and helped his three conscious charges to their feet. The string was still tied around their wrists, and when he levitated Flitwick, he led the procession of malnourished survivors. Everyone they rescued, surprisingly, could take orders well. They obeyed mindlessly, their chins on their chests and eyes on their feet. The string helped keep them on track with their journey.

It was slow going, but after two hours, Draco was climbing into a black car with tinted windows. He settled Harry against him in the seat and held the fussy Aidan. He loved his son, but his nerves were shot with his crying. He could do nothing to ease his son's fears and hunger. It broke his heart, and he let a couple tears fall down his cheeks as he kissed the crown of Aidan's head. His son had done nothing but cry since he had gotten him. He felt like a horrible father. He didn't know anything to do to stop his son's crying. He didn't know what to do to help him.

"Stoppen Sie an Coop, bitte (Stop at Coop, please)," Draco ordered the driver in perfect German. His son watched him dazedly with fat tears on his gaunt, pale cheeks. A few minutes later, the chauffer pulled into the parking garage for the grocery store and waited as Draco got out and spoke to those in the other vehicles that followed them. Tonks offered to help and went inside with them. He carried Aidan to the baby section and bought everything he needed. A few outfits, blankets, a ton of nappies, bottles, pacifiers, and, the most important, formula, a lot of formula. He had never been so glad he carried a wallet with a Muggle credit card. Tonks was a genius at taking them out of the Wizarding World and making them sufficient in the Muggle World. It was she who had Gringotts quietly move all their money to a Scottish bank.

They rushed through the shopping. Their journey was still another twenty miles to the house. When he returned to the car, he rushed through preparing a bottle, reading the instructions carefully. Harry was still unconscious and he was so scared he was going to poison his son or something without Harry's expertise. Dismissing his fears and focusing on his concern for Aidan's health, Draco cradled Aidan as he had seen Harry do and stuck the nipple of the bottle in his son's mouth. Aidan didn't take to it at first, but after Draco squeezed a few drops into his mouth, his son drained the eight ounce bottle. He was almost tempted to give him another.

He regretfully pulled the bottle from his son's greedy mouth, knowing too much too soon wasn't good for the baby. Aidan tried to follow it, but was too weak and probably young to pull himself up that far. He probably couldn't sit on his own yet. He was barely over two months old.

Draco held him close and hummed tunelessly to his fussy son. Aidan was still whimpering and pulling on his ear, likely an ear infection. It was only a couple minutes after Draco had fed Aidan that he realized he had fed him too much. Milk came back up through his child's mouth as the baby coughed and screamed. Draco quickly turned him onto his stomach, supporting the infant with his forearm as he lost more of the formula he had taken.

"Aidan, I'm sorry!" he cried, rubbing his baby's back with his free hand in what he hoped was soothing circles. He felt his heart pounding in his chest with his fear and desperation. All he wanted was for Aidan to be healthy again, like he had when he last saw him. He felt helpless as his son finished vomiting and sniffled through his coughing fit. Draco continued to pat him on his back, the smell of the vomited formula making his stomach twist in agony. He swiped his hand over the mess and cleaned it from his jeans and the floor. The smell still lingered.

Pulling Aidan's limp body to his chest again, Draco rocked him with the sway of the car until he finally fell into an exhausted sleep. He slept with his mouth open and his congestion was audible. Draco hoped Severus knew how to care for a sick baby as well because Draco had no clue.

When they arrived at the house, everything started moving. Harry was taken from Draco and laid out on the sofa. The other rescued heroes were given dreamless sleeping draughts, nutrition potions, and cold remedies as they had nothing more serious than malnourishment and colds. Harry and Aidan were the priority. Tonks and Bill took Aidan and, looking through the infant book Bill had brought along, began casting diagnostic spells on the sleeping baby.

"What's wrong with him, Sev?" Draco asked in concern settling down beside Harry's feet.

"A lot." Severus looked worried and that made Draco want to panic, but he bit it down. He sat vigil as Severus began the tedious task of healing Harry. "His hand is completely shattered and has begun healing itself. I'll likely have to remove all the bones and regrow them."

Looking at Harry's mutilated hand, Draco worried if he would ever be the Harry he once was. He knew that having a broken bone fix itself likely damaged the muscles surrounding it and possibly the nerves as well. This was just one reminder of the horrors his love had endured that would stay with him his whole life.

Severus began setting Harry's ribs and held them secure with a localized petrification charm. "His lung has a small tear, but luckily it isn't punctured the whole way through. It should be easy enough to fix. The main problem is the infection that his body is fighting. He has a mild concussion, most likely from the fresh blow to his head." He emphasized the point by lifting Harry's fringe and showing Draco the bloody gash. He healed it easy enough and moved to Harry's ankle. It was huge and Severus sighed. He waved his hand and instantly, Harry's foot flexed and froze in place.

"Why'd you do that?"

"It's a disaster." He did the same to Harry's crushed hand, petrifying it. "If I can find an apothecary around here, I can make up some Skelegrow. It would be better to just start over again with his hand and ankle."

"Will he be all right?"

"With time, yes. There's so much scar tissue surrounding the broken bones that it will take awhile. I'll have to try and remove some of it once we get the bones regrown. I don't think he's going to be waking up any time soon. His body needs to rest and his concussion is only making everything worse."

Nutrient and cold remedy potions were coerced into Harry as well as a generalized healing and Dreamless Sleep.

"I will check what ingredients were brought with us and pick up whatever else we need on the way to catch our flight tomorrow. I will be able to have it done by Wednesday morning."

"Two days? You're going to let Harry go two days without being able to use his hand or walk?" Draco only then realized he had jumped to his feet in frustration as he yelled at his mentor. Severus just watched him indulgently which pissed Draco off even more. He walked away before he would say anything he would regret later. He loved Sev, but sometimes the man infuriated him.

"How's Aidan?" He took the bundle from Tonks and sat on the end of the couch beside Harry's feet with him cradled sweetly against his chest.

"Just a bit of a cold. The jaundice is from starvation. I'm not sure, but it's been at least a week since he's had much of anything. We watered down a nutrition potion and put it in a bottle for him along with a draught for his cold. It will help make up for some of the nutrition he's lost in the time they've been in prison. All we can do right now is treat him with watered down adult formulas and when we get to Romania, we can get him on infant doses. He's adorable, Draco. I can't figure out if he looks more like you or like Harry. His eyes are to die for just like yours."

Draco smiled sadly at his little son. He was feeling more comfortable holding him than he had earlier in the day, but he just knew he would screw something up. Aidan didn't come with instructions, and Harry wasn't able to care for him and guide Draco either. How did the amazing man do it? How did he survive almost eleven months in prison and raise a beautiful, fascinating son with no prior knowledge of how children worked?

They cleaned up their charges and dressed them in Muggle nursing scrubs. Their cover at the airport was relocating patients of a mental facility. He was amusedly looking forward to seeing Severus in the white scrubs that was their "uniform."

Bill helped him bathe Aidan since he was the only one in the house with any experience and the baby came out looking healthier and smiling and cooing. He loved how much Aidan loved his bath. He was so adorable and was the most active Draco had ever seen him.

The night that followed Aidan's bath went badly for Draco. He ended up staying on a thick, soft rug in front of the fire in the living room with Harry and Aidan. His son, curled up next to him on the rug, woke frequently in the night and cried for a bottle or to be cuddled more. Draco ended up giving him a small bottle every two hours and every other bottle was laced with some potion. Already, Aidan's congestion cleared up, and he had stopped coughing. He was still running a fever off and on, but it had gone down dramatically. He was gaining color back, though, so Draco felt a lot less paranoid about being a horrible father.

The whole house was up and moving out at five a.m., and Draco felt exhausted. Altogether, he figured he had only gotten three hours of solid sleep.

When Severus performed the magic to animate the bodies of their three unconscious members, Draco felt like vomiting. They looked like Inferi. His love looked no more than a moving corpse. McGonagall and Flitwick looked no better. He swallowed hard and hugged Aidan tighter to his chest, keeping a wary eye out for Harry.

They arrived at the Zurich airport with little problem. Aidan still wanted to be fed at least every three hours or he would start screaming. He was still pulling his ear and fussing. He kept trying to reach out for Harry as well, and it reminded Draco painfully that Aidan didn't know him. Aidan knew nothing about his other father. Draco loved him so much it hurt, but Aidan clearly loved Harry more. With time, he hoped that would change. It was just going to take time.

With as little sleep he had had and the stress he was feeling, Draco still managed to enjoy seeing Severus in something the complete opposite of what he usually wore. The scrubs were a tighter fit than the flowing robes the man usually wore. Draco wondered why Severus would go so long hiding his body when he was actually quite attractive outside of his scary demeanor. Sure his nose was a bit crooked from a time in school when it was broken by Sirius Black, but despite that, Severus had very strong features.

"Stop looking at me like that," he hissed, breaking Draco from his thoughts. They had another twenty minutes before boarding would begin. Their group was chaperoned into a private room to wait because of the instability of their "patients".

"Like what?" Draco asked with a smug smirk as he pulled Harry's hand into his lap. Severus had dropped the spell animating the three, due to the drain it caused on his magic, and Harry was leaning heavily against him. Draco felt like things were only going to get better from here. Sure he worried desperately for Harry's psychiatric state after being confined for so long, but his love was free and sitting beside him and would survive just as he always did.

Harry groaned and Draco looked at his face with all the optimism and hope he had just discovered. He squeezed his hand and felt a soft squeeze back. Slowly, dull green eyes blinked open.

"Harry!" Draco placed himself kneeling in front of his lover and smiled when Harry's eyes met his and began to clear. His heart felt like it was going to thud out of his chest and he let out a short laugh of delight as he hugged his sleeping baby. "It's good to see your beautiful, green eyes, Love."

"Harry, welcome back to the world of the waking," Bill grinned from his place beside his brothers and father. Draco could see the underlying fear and sadness behind the man's smile and hoped Bill and the Weasleys would have as happy a reunion as he was having at that moment.

"Dray," Harry breathed, his free hand reaching out for Draco's face. Draco nuzzled it and felt himself flood with emotion and warmth. "A-dn?"

Draco looked down at the bundle cradled in his arm and smiled gaily. "He's so perfect."

Harry held out his arms, still slouched, but looking better than he had in the prison. Knowing exactly what he wanted, Draco carefully placed Aidan into his arms. He felt a flutter in his belly as he watched his lover with their son. It was as if he was a school girl with a crush as he fell in love with Harry on a whole new level as he watched the two together.

Aidan had immediately woken at the change of holder and began smiling and cooing. He babbled on and on, kicking and grabbing happily.

"Oh really?" Harry asked with a huge grin on his face. "Were you good for your daddy?" Harry paused for Aidan's babbles as he glanced at Draco. It took everything in him not to lunge at Harry and snog the life out of him until he was begging for more. Harry was so sexy looking at him through his eye lashes as he held their son.

Harry blushed prettily and returned his full attention to their son. "Is that so?" Harry continued to speak one-sided to Aidan, laughing when he laughed, clapping and kicking. It was as if Harry turned into a completely different person, a whole and healthy person. Draco felt some of his worry fade. Finally, after long moments reuniting with his baby, Harry looked to Draco curiously. "Where are we?"

"Zurich. Airport."

Draco listened over the loudspeaker as their flight was called to board.

"Lupin, Tonks, wake up," Severus said, shaking the shoulder of both to rouse them from their cuddled nap. "We must go," he announced to the room. "Potter, I'm glad you are awake, but there is no time."

A smirk graced Harry's face as he stared in amusement at Severus. "Was that just-"

"No, never!" Severus snapped at Harry, and Draco laughed.

"Aww, Sev's getting a soft spot for Harry," Draco grinned. He held his arms out to Harry. "Let me take Aidan. Your hand, ribs, and ankle have been petrified to minimize further damage."

The flight was long and boring, but Draco was more than happy to have Harry back and speaking. He had fallen asleep after he had gotten lunch, but it was a light sleep, nothing like the unconsciousness from before and that made Draco feel like a huge weight was lifted from his chest. He felt he could breathe again.

Somehow, he knew that despite the problems he and his new family would face, everything was going to be all right in the end. Fudge's reign was about to be over and Draco was going to be the one to see to it. How dare the man think he could lord it over the citizens of Britain and get away with it. He was in for a big surprise. With Harry well beside him, Draco could do anything.

* * *

A/N: Next chapter: Aidan's middle name! Finally! And the Ministry learns of the mass escape. R & R!


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9—Two Steps Forward

A/N: Sooo sorry about the REALLY long wait. Preparing for this deployment has been insane. We worked literally from 5 a.m. to 10 p.m. nearly every night and most weekends in order to get everything accomplished in the short amount of time we had. So, now, here I am, in a foreign desert, adjusting to insane schedules, dreaming of the day I can take my R&R in Europe. LOL. I promise not to let this story go so long again without an update. Thank you all who stuck by me while I've been MIA. Hope you enjoy the fluff! It's calorie free.

Draco couldn't imagine his life being any better at that point. Well, unless having Harry officially free was feasible. Having Harry back to full health wouldn't be bad either, but he would take what he could get for now.

They had arrived at Viktor Krum's manor in Romania and met with the Bulgarian Seeker. Viktor was more than accommodating, setting up rooms and ordering food service for the guests in their company. He showed Draco and Harry, with Aidan, to their own suite of rooms in the west wing with some of the more dire escapees and Severus. Viktor's own personal medic came and attended to McGonagall, Flitwick, and Arthur Weasley who had slipped into unconsciousness after a sudden, unexplained seizure.

Aidan was healthy and happy, and Harry was well on his way to mending. He'd definitely settle for this pseudo life they were making for themselves.

Harry had been through four days of torturous, screaming pain as his hand and ankle were regrown, pushing through the scar tissue that had grown around his broken bones. He had been feverish, incoherent, and heavily drugged, but it had still caused him so much pain. Draco felt like he was dying as he watched helplessly as Harry feebly tried thrashing through the pain. He felt like he was worse than the Dark Lord as he held his love down as he cried and pleaded for them to stop.

For two of those days, Draco sat unmoving beside Harry's bed, fearing the man would fall into unconsciousness and never wake. He didn't sleep, couldn't eat. The only thing that gave him a small comfort was Aidan. Everyone in the manor believed that Draco was wholly responsible for Aidan's care whilst Harry was out of commission, and most of the time, Draco agreed. It was during the times after Harry had fallen back into unconsciousness that Draco felt so out of sorts that he _knew_ he would kill or maim his baby accidentally. He couldn't be a father without Harry.

Those four days had allowed Draco and Aidan to bond. Harry for the most part wasn't able to teach Draco much of anything the first week they were in Romania. He was in and out of unconsciousness, feverish from his body fighting infections, exhausted, and oftentimes suffering through flashbacks of the last two months in prison and his dangerous labor and delivery of Aidan.

Draco remembered the day Harry woke sobbing as his memory unlocked the day he had been beaten so severely a normal man would have died. He shuddered as Harry recounted everything from the beheading of Fossy to the man stomping his ankle so thoroughly that the bones had shattered beyond repair.

His boyfriend had gone through too much pain. Too much suffering. Draco decided to make it his mission in life to make it up to Harry and Aidan for the rest of his life. He was going to make sure they had the perfect life, for the rest of their lives. To hell with Fudge and the Ministry. He would take them down.

He glanced over at Harry, whose bare newly healed foot was pressed against his thigh. The scars from the bones that had pushed through the skin were an angry red color. The man looked exhausted. He was curled up on his side, his head resting on the overstuffed back cushions of the couch as he watched Aidan babble happily in Draco's lap. Harry had a goofy smile on his face as he watched Draco play patty cake with their son, but Draco could see fear and longing battling on his love's face. Harry tried too hard to be brave sometimes.

Harry's thin, shaking arm reached out and his fingers grasped Aidan's waving hand. The baby instantly latched on with an excited gurgle as he pulled at his daddy's fingers trying to get them to his toothless mouth. A soft snort escaped his love, and Draco grinned at the sight. Harry hadn't held Aidan since the escape, and Draco could see the desperation to do so; it was practically pulsing off Harry.

"Sit back," Draco ordered, scooping Aidan into his arms. He gently pushed Harry back against the cushions more comfortably and helped him move his legs off the couch before he set Aidan down into his lap and sat directly beside them. He supported Aidan's back and neck, making sure their son wouldn't fall from his perch. Harry was nearly as weak as a newborn, and it was taking all Draco's patience not to demand Severus fix him immediately, knowing the order was futile. Nothing but rest, good nutrition, easy exercise, and mild strengthening potions could help Harry right now.

"A'dan," Harry murmured, his arms weakly wrapping around his son in a hug. Aidan allowed himself to be pulled into his daddy's chest without fuss. Tears began rolling down Harry's pale cheeks.

"Harry?" Draco hated seeing the raw emotions playing over his lover's face as he began silently sobbing into his baby's soft hair. His eyes were closed so tightly, and his hands trembled as they tangled in Aidan's outfit and blanket. Draco carefully placed his hand on the back of Harry's neck, his other still supporting Aidan. "Harry look at me," he tried coaxing to no avail.

Harry often went through these issues. One moment he'd be happy and sleepy and the next he'd be sobbing, not accepting any comfort from anyone. Draco had learned early on not to get too close when Harry was going through this emotional upheaval. It only made the sobbing worse.

Instead of wrapping his boyfriend in his arms and whispering soothing words into his ear like he wanted to, Draco slipped his hand under his lover's chin, lifting his tear-stained face to his. Slowly, Harry's eyes blinked open. "Talk to me," Draco urged. It was what the doctors kept advising him. Force Harry to talk. It exercised his damaged vocal cords and forced the man into admitting what was wrong.

Like usual, Harry lowered his gaze and shook his head ever so slightly. Draco allowed his fingers to tighten just slightly on Harry's chin drawing his lover's attention once more. He allowed his desperation and helplessness to gleam through his eyes. "Harry, talk to me. Please. Why are you so upset?"

Harry lowered his gaze again, pulling out of Draco's gentle grip. "I don't know," he whispered, barely audible.

"What don't you know?" Draco asked softly, folding his legs beneath him to face Harry. Their thighs were touching. Draco was always touching him in some way, subconsciously afraid that if he didn't, Harry would disappear.

Harry loosened his hold on Aidan, allowing the baby to sit more comfortably in his lap again, but the boy was subdued, sensing his daddies' moods. Harry watched his fingers gripped tightly in his baby's fists in fascination and shook his head negatively.

"Come on, Harry. Please, talk to me. What are you feeling right now?" It was another thing the doctors told him to do: get Harry to talk about what he was feeling.

Harry took a shuddering breath, releasing it slowly. His eyes never left Aidan. "It's so much." He rested his forehead against his baby's soft, black hair as more tears fell from his eyes. "I've dreamed about this for so long," he whispered.

Draco placed his hand on Harry's head, gently running his fingers through his love's soft, thick locks. "I've done nothing but dream about you since you've been gone."

Harry's teary green eyes, brighter than Draco had seen in ages, locked on his, and Harry gave a small smile. With his cheek resting atop Aidan's head, Harry continued. "I couldn't decide if I wanted you to move on with your life and fall in love again or pine away for me like I was you."

Draco was stunned speechless for a moment. He would have never been that selfless had their situations been reversed. Harry was his, and if he had the slightest hope of getting out, he would have probably killed whoever took his Harry from him. As it was, Fudge and his lackeys weren't going to survive. He just needed to figure out how to kill the man and make it look like an accident. That's where Harry and his knowledge of defense and the Auror department came in to play.

"There is no one who could ever compare to you."

Harry smiled sadly, as he often did these days, and closed his eyes.

"I love you, Harry," Draco said, still running his fingers through Harry's hair.

Aidan must have decided that they had been sad for long enough because he reached his tiny hand up and grabbed Harry's nose harshly his little thumb going in his nostril. "Ba!" he screamed playfully as Harry pulled away, moving more quickly than Draco had seen in a long time. Harry laughed and poked Aidan in the belly, the baby screaming with delight. He clapped happily before leaning over to grab Draco.

Draco scooped him up quickly as he was falling sideways and placed him back into Harry's lap. "Stay with Daddy, Aidan, he misses you."

"He's really taken with you," Harry commented, smiling genuinely at Draco. The smile made his stomach flutter with want.

"He better be! That brat demanded all my attention while you were healing. Never let me put him down except when he was trying to get to you. I swear you've spoiled him," Draco replied indignantly, crossing his arms like a petulant child.

Harry gazed fondly at Aidan. "He saved my life."

Sensing the change of mood again, Draco sweetly petted his son's head. Aidan reached up and grabbed his thumb bringing it immediately to his mouth to gum it. "Eww! Aidan! Come on, I don't want baby slobber all over me!" He didn't struggle much until something sharp stabbed the side of his thumb. "Ouch!" He pulled his hand to his chest, cradling it like he did when he had gotten attacked by the hippogriff in third year. "He bit me."

"He doesn't have teeth. It can't have hurt that bad."

"You stick your finger in there, and tell me he doesn't have teeth!"

Harry got a delighted smile on his face as he bent over Aidan and coaxed the baby into opening his mouth. Aidan's gums were mostly pink except for a small spot on top that had a tiny white bump straining against the skin. Harry smiled brightly and looked up at Draco. "He's getting his first tooth!"

Draco couldn't help but revel in the delight Harry was exuding, but rolled his eyes in amusement. "Of course he is. I told you the little bugger bit me." He moved his face so close to Aidan their noses were nearly touching.

"Ba!" Aidan screamed slapping his hand at Draco, who pulled away quickly.

Harry chuckled. "I don't think he liked you calling him a little bugger."

"Ba! Ba!" Draco grabbed Aidan and held him standing on Harry's thigh. His legs didn't support him and he kicked with them as Draco held him in place.

"Listen here, you little brat—"

Harry slapped Draco's hands away and sat Aidan back down on his lap. "Don't be an arse. He's a little angel."

Aidan seemed amused at his parents' silly smiles and teasing, but he seemed even more delighted that Harry was holding him again. The baby had been quite fussy the last few days, constantly reaching for Harry whenever he was in the same room. He had grown since they had been rescued. He was no longer gaunt and pale, and his body no longer looked emaciated. Aidan glowed with healthy color.

After several moments of silence as they teased and tickled their baby, Draco became serious again.

"We travel back to England on Monday. Are you ready for it?"

Harry ran his hand over Aidan's head and sighed. "I guess. It's been nice being here."

"Yeah, it has. I'm eternally grateful for Viktor. He's done so much. His healers, though, they don't think McGonagall or Flitwick are going to make it."

Harry looked away from Draco and Aidan. "I don't want to talk about this," he whispered. Draco could hear the weight of the world in his voice, and he placed his hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Ok, we won't talk about it." Draco took a deep breath and stood up, reaching out for Aidan. "Come on, little bugger, time for a nap." He picked Aidan up from Harry's lap and cradled him as he reached out for his lover's hand to help him from the couch.

Together, hand in hand, Harry and Draco made their way into their bedroom and placed Aidan down in his cot. The baby immediately tried to get picked up again, but Draco just smiled, patted his stomach gently and covered him with a blanket. After a few moments of them watching him, Aidan's eyes grew heavy, and Draco helped Harry into their bed.

"I missed you so much," Draco whispered, pulling Harry to him and wrapping an arm around Harry's thin body. Harry curled against his side, his head pillowed on Draco's shoulder.

"Missed you, too. Missed this," Harry murmured, his eyes closed and breathing deepening with sleep.

Draco continued to watch him before he, too, was lulled to sleep by the sounds of his lover's and his baby's soft breathing.


End file.
